


Helping Hand

by LoverAwakened



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Blow Jobs, Bunker Sex, Canon Divergent, Canon Divergent after 12x03, Castiel & Sam Winchester Friendship, Castiel has Anxiety, Deansturbation, Emotional Dean, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Jealous Dean Winchester, Love Confessions, M/M, Masturbation, Men of Letters Bunker, Misunderstandings, Oral Sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Castiel, Panic Attacks, Rimming, Season/Series 12, Season/Series 12 Spoilers, Smut, Updates 1-2 times per month, casturbation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-15
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2018-09-03 15:20:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 37,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8718883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoverAwakened/pseuds/LoverAwakened
Summary: Castiel comes back to the bunker after a fruitless search for Lucifer to find Dean suffering from a nightmare. After learning Mary has left the bunker, needing some "time", Castiel is confronted with an emotionally insecure Dean Winchester. The two begin spending more and more time together and feelings Castiel has tried so hard to suppress keep fluttering to the surface.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> They say a picture is worth a thousand words. Well gifs must be worth way more, because-I shit you not-this entire story sprung to my mind after I saw a NSFW gif on Tumblr that just screamed Destiel at me. I will be updating as quickly as I can. I'll be updating the tags as the chapters post. This work is rated Explicit, however that will be for later chapters, not this one. 
> 
>  
> 
> I do not own Supernatural, or any of it's characters. They belong to Eric Kripke and Warner Bros

 

 

 

 

Castiel was heading to the bunker after a fruitless search for Lucifer. After driving fifteen hours to Cleveland to follow a lead on the Devil, he was exhausted and irritated. Although a full-powered angel again, Castiel's wings were still clipped, so to speak, and he longed for the days when he could be halfway around the world in the blink of an eye. On his quest to find Satan, Castiel had run into Crowley, who he reluctantly let help with his search. As much as Castiel loathed working with the King of Hell, he knew Crowley wanted to find Lucifer as badly as he did. 

 

So, the pair set off looking for Lucifer, who had been burning through vessels like a chain smoker through a pack of cigarettes. They had tracked down his current vessel, one rock star named Vince Vincente, but when Castiel and Crowley arrived at the house it was empty, save for Rowena sitting on the back patio sipping a cup of tea. Apparently, shortly before the angel and demon arrived, Rowena had tricked Lucifer into letting her perform a spell. The spell had caused Lucifer's vessel to rapidly decay before she banished him to the bottom of the ocean. Castiel still wasn't sure he liked Rowena, but he had to admire her tenacity.

 

Even though Rowena decided not to actively hunt down Lucifer with Castiel and her son, Crowley, she did agree to help lock him back in the Cage when they finally caught him. Since the two didn't have any further leads at the moment, Rowena headed off with her son; most likely for protection, because as soon as Lucifer clawed his way up from the bottom of the ocean he would more than likely be gunning for the witch. Castiel hopped into his stolen truck and headed for Lebanon, Kansas.

 

When he eventually reached the Men of Letters bunker, it was quite late. It wasn't unusual for the Winchester's to be awake at this hour, lounging around their newly made family room watching a movie or curled up in one of the library's many chairs doing research. Castiel gradually descended the curved metal staircase of the bunker's entrance. Boots clunked with each heavy step, the sound echoing off the walls. The bunker was completely silent. Heading toward the hallway of bedrooms, Castiel glanced in at the kitchen, the family room, and the library finding them empty. The guys must have called it a night already.

 

The gray-tiled hallway with its light gray paint did nothing to help Castiel's sour mood. Being a fully powered angel again, he didn't require human things such as food or sleep, but Castiel was mentally exhausted from this hunt for Lucifer. It was his fault the fallen archangel was running around in the first place. Castiel had screwed up. Again. It was his responsibility to clean up his mess. Even so, it wouldn't hurt to relax for the night and start fresh in the morning. 

 

Sam had set up a room for Castiel at the bunker a little while back, saying that Cas should feel like it was his home too, because it was. Castiel appreciated the gesture, more so than he let on, but in trying to explain how unnecessary it was for him to have his own bedroom, being that he didn't sleep, Sam had dismissed him with the wave of a hand.

 

_It's done, Cas._

 

Castiel reached his room which, much to his delight, was directly across the hall from Dean’s. Being this close to his charge allowed him to keep watch over Dean, even though the hunter protested.

 

_You don’t have to watch over me, Cas, I don’t need a babysitter!_

 

Castiel blew out a deep breath, reaching for the door knob when he heard it. A faint whimper. He stood unmoving for a moment. Castiel strained his angelic hearing. A groan and a shout had the angel swiftly crossing the hallway and throwing open Dean’s door.

 

The room was dark, save for the harsh fluorescent light spilling in from the hallway to fall across Dean’s bed. The hunter was on top of the blankets. He was wearing loose sweat pants, his chest and feet bare. Dean lay there, his body thrashing, eyes squeezed shut. A fine sheen of sweat caused his exposed skin to glisten.

 

Castiel’s eyes raked hungrily over Dean’s body. Desire swirled low in the angel’s gut. The Winchester’s were notorious for their layers of clothing. He couldn’t remember the last time he saw Dean in such a state of undress.

 

Another agonizing groan tore Castiel from his train of thought. Quickly, he strode over to the side of the bed. Laying a hand gently on Dean’s forehead, the angel used his grace, invading Dean’s mind and calming his nightmare.

 

Dean stopped thrashing. His breaths becoming slow and steady. Castiel smiled down at him, relief flooding his chest, as his friend settled into a pleasant slumber. Moving his hand from Dean’s forehead, Castiel very gingerly ran his fingers back through the thick hair matted down with perspiration. A blush dusted Castiel’s cheeks. He tried to swallow around the lump forming in his throat. He knew had Dean been awake he would never have allowed Castiel this. To touch him in this way. So close. So intimate. A wave of guilt crashed over him then, and Castiel felt his chest constrict. He just had to go to his room and relax. Yes, that’s what he needed.

 

Castiel stood, turning to leave, when a hand suddenly shot out and wrapped around his wrist in a deathly grip. Castiel startled.

 

“Cas?” mumbled Dean, his voice deep and gravelly from sleep, sending shivers down Castiel’s spine.

 

“Hello, Dean.” Castiel ticked one corner of his mouth up in the semblance of a smile. He dropped his eyes down to the hand still securely wrapped around his wrist. His heart thudded wildly in his chest, hoping Dean wouldn’t demand to know what Castiel was doing in his bedroom in the middle of the night, lecturing him about how ‘creepy’ it is to watch people while they’re sleeping. Nervously, his eyes ticked back up. Blue eyes latched on to Dean’s impossibly green ones. In all his existence, Castiel had never seen so many hues of green in one pair of eyes. They were mesmerizing.

 

Dean loosened the grip on Castiel’s wrist, stretching out his arms. Sweat soaked skin pulled tautly over the planes and ridges of Dean’s chest and abdomen.

 

“What’s up, buddy?” Dean yawned around the words. He sat up, blinking tired eyes and rubbing them with shaking hands. Quickly, he ran fingers through his hair, tousling the already messy short strands. Gazing up at Castiel, a sleepy smile formed on Dean’s face.

 

Dean looked absolutely debauched. Castiel nibbled at his bottom lip.

 

“I’m sorry for intruding Dean.” He took a small step back toward the door. “I heard you having a nightmare and I came in here to check on you.”

 

“Oh.” Dean shifted uncomfortably on the bed. The warmth in his eyes vanished. Head bowed, he stared blankly into his lap. “Yeah, man. Sorry about that.”

 

“There’s no need to apologize, Dean.” Castiel said, trying to be helpful. Though from the pained expression that flittered across Dean’s features, Castiel was clearly failing. “Do you want to talk about it?” he offered.

 

Dean swung his legs over the side of the bed. Shoulders hunched and head hung, Dean patted the spot next to him.

 

One of Castiel’s brows quirked upward. Dean was not the type to willingly share his feelings. Ever.

 

Hesitating for a moment, he reigned in his surprise, the angel’s face masked in a neutral expression, before finally accepting the invitation and taking a seat next to Dean on the bed. It was quite comfortable. The soft give of the memory foam seemed to cushion around the outline of his body. Perhaps he should invest in one of these mattresses, even if he doesn’t require sleep.

 

The silence stretched out. Castiel waited patiently for Dean to say something. Anything. He knew Dean wasn’t one for ‘chick-flick’ moments, as Dean calls them, but Castiel could see the battle warring within the hunter.

 

Dean opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. He swallowed repeatedly, his bottom lip quivering. Green orbs bore into Castiel, shiny with unshed tears.

 

“She left me…” Dean spoke in a voice so quiet, had Castiel not been a celestial being, he was doubtful he would have heard it.

 

Furrowing his eyebrows and cocking his head to the left, eyes squinting, he tried to recall anyone the hunter might have been seeing that could have left him.

 

“Uh, remember when I called you last week and asked you about that stuff with my Mom?” Dean’s fist clenched and unclenched, balling up the fabric of his sweats at his thighs.

 

This was about his mother? Oh. _Oh._

 

Castiel stared at the side of Dean’s head, Dean’s adams apple still bobbing up and down, biting his bottom lip hard to try and keep it from quivering. It pained Castiel to see his friend this way. His mind flooded with all the things he wished he could do to comfort him, but Castiel settled for clasping his hand on Dean’s shoulder, giving it a couple firm squeezes. The angel then slid his hand over Dean’s shoulder blade, rubbing soothing circles on the hunter’s back. Dean leaned into the touch.

 

“Oomph!” Castiel’s eyes widened in shock as Dean choked back a sob, throwing himself into the angel’s arms. Castiel’s eyes darted back and forth frantically, his torso twisted, arms wrapped around a shaking Dean Winchester. What was he supposed to do? In his eight-plus years of knowing this man, Castiel had never seen him so completely unraveled.

 

A sniffle rose from Dean as he nuzzled his face into the crook of Castiel’s neck.

 

“She left me, man,” Dean whimpered, “she just fucking left.”

 

“Your mother?” asked Castiel, clarifying.

 

Dean nodded furiously, tears spilling over long blonde lashes, unable to keep them at bay any longer.

 

“Everyone leaves me!” Dean screamed into the hollow of the angel’s throat. “No one ever loves me enough to stay! Nobody… nobody needs me, not like I need them. Why would anybody wanna be around me, huh? I’m a violent alcoholic with abandonment and daddy issues.”

 

Instantly, Castiel had wound one hand into the hair at the back of Dean’s head, gripping tight and snapping his head up. Blue eyes lit with fury locking onto red-rimmed green, still shiny with tears.

 

“You listen to me, Dean Winchester,” Castiel growled, “you are the Righteous Man. You have the brightest, most beautiful soul I’ve ever seen.”

 

Emerald eyes widened, but he didn’t try to get out of the angel’s punishing grip.

 

Castiel softened his voice. Warmth and affection seeping into his words.

 

“You are the kindest, bravest, smartest, most generous man I have ever met.” Loosening his grip, he tucked Dean’s head under his chin, burying his nose in the tousled locks. Castiel inhaled deeply. Along with the scent of sweat, tears, leather, and whiskey, there was a deep Earthy scent that was inherently Dean. Feeling slightly brave, he punctuated his next statement with a soft kiss to the top of Dean’s matted down hair.

 

“I don’t ever want to hear you talk about yourself in such a manner again. Understood?” Castiel commanded, his tone firm, but gentle.

 

Dean curled his fingers around the lapel of Castiel’s trench coat. Nodding slowly, he lifted his eyes, pleading.

 

The angel saw the question in his hunter’s eyes. Stroking a reassuring thumb across Dean’s cheekbone, he cradled his jaw, drawing his friend even closer. Castiel could feel the hunter’s hot breath blowing across his chapped lips. Dean was so close. It would be so easy to kiss the hunter. To close the tiny distance between them and settle his mouth on Dean’s plush pink lips. To take what he’d been craving for so many years.

 

In that moment, Castiel thinks Dean would probably let him. The angel swallowed. He can’t. It wouldn’t be right. Dean was in a fragile emotional state and he could not, no he _would not_ , take advantage of his best friend.

 

Leisurely, Castiel stroked a hand through his friend’s hair, using his other arm to hug him tightly.

 

“I don’t know the reason for Mary leaving,” the angel began, “I can’t speak for her. Honestly, I can’t even imagine what she must be feeling right now.” Castiel cleared his throat. “I will tell you, Dean Winchester, that I am here for you. I will always come when you call and I’m not going anywhere. Ever.”

 

They sat for a few minutes, staring at one another. Their slow ragged breathing the only sound filling the room. Dean threw his arms around Castiel’s shoulders, pulling the angel into a bone crushing hug. Clapping Castiel on the back before releasing him, Dean scooted back toward the headboard putting some distance between the two of them.

 

“Thanks, man.” The hunter wiped the remaining tears from his face, tough guy façade settling back in place. “Sorry about all this ‘chick-flick’ stuff,” Dean said, waving his hand.

 

The absence of Dean’s body heat caused Castiel’s chest to tighten with disappointment. He stood, shaking the feeling off and crossed the bedroom, hand resting on the doorframe.

 

“Not to worry, Dean,” Castiel spoke over his shoulder, “your secret is safe with me.” He smirked at the hunter, trying not to betray his true feelings.

 

Dean chuckled softly, “Good to know, Cas. Good to know.”

 

_“Sleep well, Dean.”_

 

“G’night, Cas.”

 

Castiel pulled the door closed and headed across the hall into his bedroom.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of Dean's emotional outburst. Dean and Cas have some "me" time.

The next morning Castiel strode into the bunker’s kitchen expecting to find the brothers sitting down to breakfast, their usual banter, and discussion of any new possible cases. What he found instead was Dean, by himself, standing at the coffee machine pouring two cups of coffee.

 

“Morning, Sunshine!” Dean called without turning around. “Coffee?”

 

Castiel was still getting used to the new nickname Dean seemed to be taken with. The first time he had mentioned it before the angel set off for Cleveland, Castiel had had a frown on his face so he assumed Dean was being sarcastic. Since then, though, Dean had used the nickname multiple times in both text messages and phone calls. Perhaps the hunter genuinely meant for it to be a term of endearment. The thought brought a smile to the angel’s lips and walking up behind Dean, Castiel softly laid a palm between the hunter’s shoulder blades, carefully reaching with his other hand around Dean’s waist to grab the mug, leaning forward just far enough to brush his chest against the other’s shoulder. The brief touch electrified the angel.

 

“Yes, thank you, Dean,” Castiel said, grabbing the large mug with the cartoon bee on it. Dean had mentioned that he had seen the mug at some truck stop off US-36 and it reminded him of the angel. Castiel was happy that Dean had been thinking about him at all.

 

He pulled back slightly from Dean but stayed in the hunter’s personal space. The two gazed into each other's eyes, staring like they were the only two left on Earth.

 

Dean’s gaze lowered, focusing on the angel’s perpetually chapped lips. Slowly, Castiel swept his tongue across his lower lip, chasing a drop of coffee. Dean’s eyes tracked the movement. Interesting. Leaning in, Castiel lowered his mug to the counter, Dean’s eyes still on his lips.

 

“Hey, so, get this,” Sam strolled into the kitchen, laptop in hand.

 

Castiel and Dean jumped apart like they had been electrocuted. Sam sat at the table with his laptop, clicking away, oblivious of his interruption.

 

“Shit,” mumbled Dean, scowling as coffee splashed over his hand and dribbled onto the floor. Setting the mug on the counter next to Castiel’s, he grabbed the hand towel hanging from the refrigerator door handle, falling to his knees in front of the angel.

 

“Looks like there might be a quick salt and burn over in Weskan.” Sam leaned back in the kitchen chair, fingers interlocking behind his head. “If we leave soon, we might not even have to stay the night.”

 

Castiel sucked in a sharp breath taking in the sight in front of him. Dean on his knees, much too close, green eyes looking up at blue. A crooked smile lit Dean’s face.

 

“I didn’t getcha, did I?” Dean asked, hand reaching out to rub Castiel’s calf, giving a quick squeeze.

 

Castiel stood frozen, the image of Dean seared into the angel’s brain. Vaguely, he thought he heard something droning in the background.

 

“Dean…Dean…Dean!”

 

Moment broken, Dean quickly finished wiping the spill, grumbling as he tossed the towel on the counter and poured himself some more coffee.

 

“Yeah, yeah, Sammy. What are you ramblin' on about?” Dean sat at the table, sliding out a chair next to him for Castiel.

 

The chair was extremely close to Dean’s, and when the angel sat down, bee mug in hand, his shoulder brushed against his friend. Dean didn’t seem to notice. Either that or the hunter simply didn’t care.

 

Giving Dean his best bitch-face, Sam turned the screen so that both his brother and the angel could see.

 

Dean rubbed a hand over his face. His leg bounced up and down rapidly, knocking into Castiel’s leg. 

 

“Yeah, okay,” Dean groaned. “Guess we can go check it out.”

 

“Hey, Cas, wanna come with?” Walking over to the fridge, Sam pulled out a small container of fruit salad, yogurt and a jug of orange juice.

 

Castiel stared down at his coffee, contemplating going with the brothers solely to spend more time with the eldest Winchester. After Dean’s little emotional outburst the previous night, his friend could probably use the company. Still, Lucifer wouldn’t be gone forever and he really should figure out the fallen archangel’s next move.

 

“I need to be working on a way to find Lucifer.”

 

Dean let out a snort. Emerald eyes twinkled as he looked over at Castiel.

 

“Didn’t you tell me Rowena sent him to the bottom of the ocean or some shit in a rotting body?” Dean chuckled, elbowing the angel’s arm.

 

Castiel frowned. He pinned the hunter with one of his squinty-eyed stares. “Well, yes,” he began, “but that doesn’t mean he is out of the picture. I really should stay behind and research. Try to come up with some sort of plan.” Castiel sipped at his coffee, the strong, bitter molecules sliding down his throat.

 

Dean raised his brows. Shooting a glance to Sam, then back to the angel, he leaned back in his chair, legs falling open, rubbing once again against Castiel’s thigh, while the older Winchester stretched his arms overhead, the hem of his shirt rode up to reveal a narrow strip of skin. Dean's sweat pants hung loose and the elastic band of his boxers was visible.

 

The angel straightened, back stiff as a board. Castiel was really starting to wonder now if his friend was doing this on purpose.

 

 _No, don’t be ridiculous,_ he thought, _Dean doesn’t know how you truly feel and even if he did, he definitely wouldn’t tease you._

 

“Well,” Dean said, leg still pushing against the angel’s, “it’s not like he’s coming back tomorrow, so you can take a day or two and hang with us.”

 

“Dean’s right,” Sam replied, spearing a strawberry with his fork, pointing it at the angel’s face. “Besides, you can research on my laptop in the Impala or at a motel if we end up staying overnight. That way, I can help you with Lucifer and you can back us up with the spirit if we need it.” He chewed thoughtfully for a moment, then looked back toward Castiel. “I mean, we’re only gonna be a few hours away. If something important comes up on the Lucifer front, we could always split.”

 

“I do not wish to take you away from a hunt. It is not necessary.”

 

“Cas, man, we’re family.” Sam tilted his head, giving the angel his ‘puppy-dog’ eyes. Castiel really hates when he does that. “You’re not in this alone, Cas. Let us help.”

 

Castiel regarded the brothers carefully. He blew out a deep breath in surrender.

 

“Okay, fine. I’ll go with you. I guess I could use a fresh prospective on this anyway. Crowley can always call if anything turns up.”

 

Dean flinched at the mention of the self-proclaimed King of Hell. An expression Castiel couldn’t quite put a name to appeared across his friend’s face but vanished just as quickly. Dean rose, gathering his empty coffee mug and his brother’s dishes, carrying them to the sink. Carefully, he washed and dried each dish and put them back in the cupboards.

 

“Alright,” Dean said, clapping his hands and rubbing them together. “I’m gonna get my shit packed, Sammy, get your shit together, and Cas,” Dean furrowed his brows at the angel, “you do… Uhm… whatever the hell it is you need to do. We’ll leave in an hour,” he finished with a nod, clearly pleased with his plan.

 

Sam huffed a laugh, exiting the kitchen with Dean on his heels. The younger Winchester’s laptop was left on the table and Castiel figured he might as well begin his research now since he didn’t exactly have anything to ‘pack’ for the trip to Weskan.

 

Forty-five minutes later, Castiel was still clacking away on the laptop’s keyboard, when Sam walked by, duffel slung over his shoulder.

 

“Hey, man. That’s the last thing I gotta pack,”

 

“Oh,” Castiel replied, “my apologies.”

 

A smile spread across the younger Winchester’s face, hazel eyes sparkling. He clapped Castiel on the shoulder and gave the angel a quick pat.

 

“That’s okay, Cas. Just don’t wanna forget it. Hey, I’m gonna throw my stuff in the Impala and do an inventory check. Can you run up to Dean’s room and let him know we’re ready when he is?”

 

When Castiel arrived at Dean’s bedroom, the door was wide open. The bedroom was spotless. Dean’s bed was neatly made, corners tucked. The hunter’s bag sat at the edge of the bed, all ready to go, but other than that, the room was empty.

 

“Dean?”

 

Glancing down the empty hallway, the angel set out to find Dean. Castiel checked the gun range, the gym, the library, and the living room thinking perhaps he missed the hunter on the way up to his room, but Dean was nowhere to be found.

 

“Dean?” He called out again. 

 

No answer.

 

Castiel walked by the bathroom facilities, which really, was set up a lot like a locker room; urinals, stalls, and multiple shower-heads in a big showering-area. The angel swore he heard the sound of water beating down against the tiles.

 

He absolutely should leave Dean to finish his shower, but Sam had asked him to let Dean know that they were ready to go, so, Castiel supposed it wouldn’t hurt to pop his head in quickly and give Dean the message.

 

It did hurt, though.

 

It hurt a lot.

 

All of Castiel’s air was stolen from his lungs as he drank in the sight before him. A pair of jeans, a black t-shirt, and a blue and green plaid flannel were folded in a neat pile on a bench near the shower. On the floor in front of the bench were Dean’s boots, a pair of socks tucked into the top of one of them. Standing under the spray of water stood Dean Winchester. He was facing away from the wall, water streaming down his tan, naked skin, eyes screwed shut and head tilted slightly back, one hand threaded through the short hair at the crown, pulling it.

 

His eyes scanned over the hunter’s body. The lip being bitten. Dean’s chest, where the anti-possession tattoo was. Down over the subtle softness of his belly. The angel’s eyes abruptly stopped at the hunter’s hips.

 

Castiel swallowed, stumbling backward and pressed against the wall as if trying to get absorbed into it.

 

Protruding out from the eldest Winchester’s hips was Dean’s penis, long and slim and curving up toward his abdomen. The hunter had a firm grip on it, arm moving in hurried strokes.

 

Castiel’s pants were becoming increasingly tight. His hands clung to the sides of his trench coat, fisting the fabric, and the angel bit down on the insides of his cheeks to keep from making any noise that would alert Dean to his presence.

 

This was wrong. This was very, very wrong. He shouldn’t be spying on his friend. He knew it was wrong, and yet, Castiel couldn’t find it in himself to care.

 

A pleasured moan reverberated off the tiled bathroom walls. It was the most arousing thing Castiel had ever heard. Another moan passed Dean’s lips causing more blood to rush to the angel’s groin, and now it was so stiff it was actually starting to get painful. Castiel had to get out of there. Fast.

 

The angel sprinted from the bathroom like he had been lit on fire. He ran down the bunker's hallway as quick as his legs would carry him. Once back to his bedroom, Castiel slammed the door, locking it behind him. He fell back against it, trying to catch his breath.

 

The erection straining against his zipper refused to go down and his heart still beat wildly in his chest. This wasn’t the first time the angel had gotten an erection. It wasn’t even the first time he had gotten an erection because of Dean. Usually, he just waited and they went away.

 

Castiel’s breathing was erratic. He pressed his palm down firmly on the straining bulge, trying to will the erection away. It didn’t work. Instead, pleasure radiated between his legs and heat pooled low in his gut.

 

When the angel had first come down to Earth into the vessel of Jimmy Novak, Castiel had thought himself above such carnal desires. Humanity confused him and even though he knew the logistics of everything people did-being millennia old- he didn’t understand the why of it all. Dean Winchester was the most confusing to him and after pulling the hunter's soul from the Pit the angel hadn’t quite worked out what his feelings for the Righteous Man were, exactly. He knew he admired Dean greatly. There was eventual friendship. Their friendship blossomed into a familial love and finally the angel had come to realize that the flutter in his stomach, the flush of his skin, Castiel’s longing to constantly be around Dean and the ache he felt when his friend was gone, was something more. Something romantic. Something sexual.

 

The angel always tried his hardest to push those sexual feelings for Dean to the back of his mind. He knew Dean Winchester, ladies man, would never want him in any physical way, and so the angel tried to pretend those feelings didn't exist. He tried to pretend the erections he got every once in a while were no big deal and they weren't. Except they had been happening more frequently. 

 

Even when he had his first and only sexual encounter as a human, Castiel was not nearly as hard as he was right now. Castiel’s sexual experience with April had been pleasant-up until the next morning when she tortured and killed him-and he hadn’t had any sexual experiences since then. Castiel had never even masturbated. Not as an angel. Not during his short stint as a human.  

 

Castiel looked down at his slacks and scowled. The confounded erection was still there, straining against his pants. The angel let out an annoyed huff. The tent in his slacks was obvious. There was no way he could go out to the Impala in this condition, even sitting alone in the back seat. Castiel would have to take care of this problem now.

 

Gathering a bit of courage, Castiel reached for his belt buckle, making quick work of the button and zipper of his slacks as well. He pulled down his pants and black cotton briefs to mid-thigh, dick bouncing in the cool air. His shaft was long, an inch or two longer than Dean’s, and very thick. The head was flushed deep red, a bead of precum leaking from the tip.

 

Wrapping long slender fingers around the base, he gave a few experimental strokes. Pleasure sparked behind his eyelids. Castiel pumped his hand up and down, swiping his thumb across the leaking head, and squeezing hard every few strokes.

 

Sheer bliss coursed through the angel’s veins. Every nerve was alight with fire. Castiel sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, teeth biting down almost to the point of bleeding, trying to keep as quiet as possible, but the images of Dean in the shower, water cascading down his hunter’s beautiful body, Dean pumping the cock hanging heavy between his legs, was too much for Castiel.

 

Broken whimpers and small moans poured from Castiel’s mouth, his arm working himself furiously. The angel could feel a white hot coil forming at the base of his spine and he knew he was close.

 

Leaning his head back against the door, Castiel brought his other hand that had been hanging at his side, to rake through the raven strands, tugging slightly, just the right side of painful, his brain conjuring up more images of Dean. 

 

The hunter’s face buried against Castiel’s throat as they sat on Dean's bed. His arms around the angel, almost in his lap. Brushing legs at the kitchen table. Dean on his knees in front of Castiel, hand on the angel’s calf, staring up at him with wide green eyes. The angel wondered what those plush pink lips would look like stretched around his cock.

 

It was the last image that pushed Castiel over the edge. He came with a cry, spurts of semen shooting from the angel’s cock, hitting the floor, his white button-down, and dribbled over his fingers and down his balls as he worked himself through the second orgasm of his life.

 

It took a few minutes for Castiel to come down from his post-orgasm high. His chest heaving, the angel took a few deep breaths, trying desperately to pull more oxygen into his lungs. Castiel looked at the mess of ejaculate everywhere. His grace pulsed and with the flick of his wrist, the floor, his body, and clothing was clean again.

 

Castiel was tucking himself back in his slacks when he was startled by a rather loud knock on his bedroom door.

 

“Yo, Cas. You in there?”

 

“Dean. Um, yes. J-just…just a minute,” Castiel quickly tucked his shirt back into his pants and smoothed his hands down the front of his clothing before opening the door.

 

Dean stood on the other side, bag slung over his shoulder. The elder Winchester was fully clothed now, but his hair was still dripping wet. Castiel tracked a few drops down Dean's face and into the hollow of his throat. Unconsciously, Castiel licked at his chapped lips.

 

“Cas?”

 

“Yes, Dean?” His eyes rose to meet the hunter’s.

 

“The fuck happened to your hair?!”

 

“Uh, hmm?”

 

“Your hair, man!” Dean reached a hand out to ruffle the dark tufts that were sticking out everywhere. “If I didn’t know any better I’d say you just got thoroughly fucked.” He laughed, shaking his head.

 

“Oh, uh…um..I-I was just, uh, laying down. J-just, uh, waiting for you and your brother,” Castiel stammered. The angel could feel his cheeks heating.

 

“Ya ready to go, buddy?”

 

Castiel winced at the word, remembering what he just did thinking about his ‘buddy’. He lowered his eyes shamefully and nodded his head, following his ‘buddy’ down to the bunker’s garage, where Sam was waiting for them in the Impala.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel gets whiplash from Dean's emotions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is so short. My kids got sick one after the other and then they gave it to me. Hooray for germs.

It turns out, the case was not as cut and dry as they had hoped. Sam and Dean had talked to the witnesses and dug further into the history of the house. They got a name, address of some old cemetery, and headed out to take care of the vengeful spirit. Unfortunately, their spirit was in an unmarked grave.

 

“Well, this is fucking perfect,” Dean muttered.

 

“Well, there’s three of us,” Sam reasoned, “better start digging.”

 

Dean grumbled something unintelligible under his breath, no doubt mocking his brother in an unflattering high pitched voice, and grabbed a shovel from the Impala’s trunk, heading to one of the nine unmarked graves in the cemetery.

 

Sometimes Castiel found Dean’s childishness kind of adorable. He laughed quietly, walking up directly beside the elder hunter and knocking shoulders playfully.

 

“It will go faster with us all splitting up to dig the graves,” Castiel grabbed his friend’s hand giving it a quick squeeze and just as quickly let it go, “c’mon, Dean.”

 

“Yeah, yeah. Alright, man.” Dean threw his arm around the angel’s shoulder and gave him a huge smile. Castiel smiled back, feeling the fluttering in his stomach again.

 

The three worked well into the night, digging up the nine unmarked graves; salting, burning, and re-covering them. The brothers had removed some of their layers during the night. Their bodies now covered with sweat and dirt. Dean wiped his arm across his forehead smearing flecks of dirt. It just made him look more appealing to the angel. The hunter would definitely need a shower when they got to the motel.

 

Castiel’s thoughts began drifting to Dean in the bunker shower. He pictured himself in the shower with Dean, soaping up the hunter’s body, running his hands all over the tanned skin, nails scraping and leaving bright red trails down his chest, getting his lips all over that perfect flesh as he rinsed him off. Castiel’s mouth leaving hot, open kisses in a trail all the way down Dean’s spine, over the swell of his buttocks, and grabbing those finely sculpted globes, spreading his cheeks wide so the angel could bury his face there, running a broad swipe of his tongue over the hunter’s beautiful, pink, fluttering hole.

 

Castiel cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably as all his blood rushed south. He needed to stop his fantasizing before he found himself in another embarrassing situation. The angel steadied his breathing, focusing his grace on recirculating the blood in his body.

 

Letting out a small sigh of relief at the feeling of his erection waning, he opened his eyes, only to find Dean standing in front of the open trunk of the Impala, a hand twisted in the hem of his shirt, lifting it up to wipe all the sweat droplets from his face, exposing the slick expanse of his abdomen.

 

Despite having just used up grace to calm his erection, Castiel could feel the swelling between his legs again.

 

 _Well,_ that _was utterly pointless,_ he thought, silently cursing the human’s gorgeous body.

 

The angel’s eyes were still fixed on Dean’s form when the hunter cleared his throat. Loudly. Castiel’s eyes snapped up to Dean’s immediately.

 

“See something you like there, angel?”

 

The hunter had the audacity to wink at Castiel.

 

The angel felt his entire face flush all the way to the tips of his ears, but he kept a blank expression across his features. So, it was going to be like _that_ was it? Well, two could play at that game.

 

Casually strolling over to where Dean was loading the shovels into the trunk, the angel leaned in close, close enough that his warm breath was puffing over the shell of the other’s ear. Castiel teased a hand under the hem of the hunter’s sweat-soaked, dirty, white tee, skimming his fingers across the other’s stomach with a feather-light touch. Dean’s entire body trembled, pulling an amused smile from the angel.

 

“I stitched your body back together myself after I pulled you from Hell,” the angel’s voice a rumbling growl in Dean’s ear, “I was just admiring my work.”

 

Castiel climbed into the backseat of the Impala with a smug smile lighting his face, leaving a stuttering Dean Winchester hunched over the open trunk.

 

* * *

 The sun was nearly coming up when they checked into the motel. The brother’s dropped their duffles at the end of each queen bed, Dean heading right for the bathroom.

 

“Dibs!”

 

Sam rolled his eyes, digging through his bag for clean clothes. “Don’t use all the hot water, jerk!”

 

A muffled ‘bitch’ sounded from behind the bathroom door.

 

The boys settled for bed after their showers, pulling the thick curtains closed to block out the sun coming in through the large window. Castiel had set up Sam’s laptop on the tiny, round dining table that stood in front of the motel window right beside the door. He had been at it for nearly twenty minutes when a grunt sounded from across the room. Castiel peered over the screen to see a blanket mound shifting on the far bed.

 

_Tap, tap, tap, tap. Click._

 

“FUCK!”

 

Castiel furrowed his brows, slowing his fingers over the keys. A minute passed without another sound, so he continued.

 

_Tap, tap, tap. Click. Click. Tap, tap._

 

“Jesus fucking Christ. What the fuck are you doing over there?! Writing your memoirs?”

 

Castiel flinched at the hunter’s tone. “Is everything alright, Dean?”

 

“Fucking, no, everything isn’t fucking all right,” Dean yelled, throwing his hands up and flinging the covers off. “We’ve been up all night digging graves, you’re plunking away at the keyboard, and I need my four hours, man!”

 

Castiel scowled, flexing his fingers above the keys. “I wasn’t plunking,” he muttered, “and if I remember correctly, I dug my three graves then helped you and your brother finish yours.”

 

“Oh, well, hooray for you and your angel mojo,” Dean bit back, “I ain’t as young as I used to be.”

 

The brothers were exhausted from the evenings' endeavors. The angel felt the irritation bleed from his body with that realization. He quickly tried to come up with some sort of alternative to ensure Dean get some undisturbed rest.

 

“I could throw some pillows and a blanket in the bathtub and work in there,” the angel mused out loud, “or perhaps I could take the laptop and stay in the Impala for the remainder of…”

 

“Damn it, Cas!” Dean growled, cutting off the angel, “can’t you just take a break?”

 

“Take a break?” the angel asked, incredulous, “Dean, I just got started.”

 

“Can’t it wait til later?” Dean complained, rolling onto his side, propping himself up on an elbow. “I mean, I know you don’t sleep, Cas, but shit, can’t you… I dunno… lay down for a while or whatever?”

 

Castiel clenched his fists. He felt a wave of annoyance flow over him as he considered Dean’s words.

 

“Need I remind you that both you and your brother assured me that in coming with you on this hunt I’d be able to do some research so I can find Lucifer before he causes any more damage.” He narrowed his eyes at Dean. “Also, there are only two beds in here. No couch. No pullout. Where exactly did you want me to ‘lay down and rest’ Dean?”

 

Dean opened his mouth to respond, but Castiel cut him off with the wave of a hand.

 

“I’m sorry I’m keeping you awake, Dean, but I do have important work to do.”

 

Castiel stood up from the table so fast the chair flew into the heater with a loud bang. Fortunately for the angel, Sam was so tired his lanky, sleeping form didn’t budge. Snatching the keys to the Impala off the table and unplugging the laptop, Castiel spun on his heels, trench coat billowing behind him, jaw clenched and lips pulled in a tight line, he reached for the door knob.

 

“I thought you said you’d never leave me.” Dean’s voice came out a whisper.

 

Castiel’s body stilled, his hand on the knob. A flash of the other night’s conversation came to mind. How sad and vulnerable Dean had been. _Great. Now I feel like an assbutt._ He inhaled deeply, choosing his next words carefully. He couldn’t bear the thought of hurting Dean, no matter how aggravating the hunter was being.

 

Castiel spoke, his voice low and calm, turning to look the other in the eyes. Dean was chewing his bottom lip, green eyes wide, repeatedly lowering and lifting back up to the angel.

 

“It isn’t my intention to leave you, Dean. I am just going to take the laptop to the Impala so that you can rest.”

 

Dean seemed to mull that over, something Castiel didn’t recognize playing over the hunter’s face. Just when the angel thought the crisis was averted, Dean’s face darkened, becoming angry once again.

 

“Fine, whatever. Just get outta here then, cuz I need to sleep and you’re fucking keeping me awake.”

 

“Dean,” Castiel pleaded.

 

“Fuck, Cas. I’m not a toddler, I don’t need you to cuddle me or sing me a lullaby, just fucking go already!”

 

Dean rolled over, facing the wall, pulling the comforter up to his neck, signifying he was one hundred percent done with their conversation.

 

Castiel, hand still on the doorknob, contemplated staying, even though Dean had told him to leave. Shaking his head, Castiel spun the keys to the Impala around his finger and headed out, pulling the door gently closed behind him.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the way back to the bunker, the boys stop at a little diner. Dean's jealousy gets the best of him.

Castiel laid across the Impala’s backseat. His tan trench coat balled up against the window, supporting the angel’s head and neck. Sam’s laptop lay forgotten on Castiel’s stomach, stocking feet up on the leather seat and his knees pulled up. The front doors to the Chevy opened simultaneously. Castiel didn’t even crack an eye open.

 

“Well, Goddamn, Cas, get comfy why dontcha.”

 

Both Sam and Castiel shot the elder Winchester matching bitchfaces. Sam glanced back to the angel, face softening. The younger hunter reached across the backseat, hand squeezing Castiel’s knee, lips pulled into a grin.

 

“Hey, man. If you were tired why didn’t you say something?” Sam chuckled, “You coulda just climbed in bed with me.”

 

Dean flashed a look of disgust at his younger brother, but immediately neutralized his expression. Castiel still caught it. The angel winced, trying to ignore the stab of pain in his chest.

 

“Thank you for the offer, Sam,” Castiel said, clearing his throat, “but I was fine out here.”

 

“Dude, I thought angels didn’t sleep?” Dean quirked an eyebrow.

 

“I wasn’t sleeping, I was resting my eyes,” Castiel muttered.

 

“Whatever.” Dean said, under his breath, Sam shooting him another bitchface.

 

 They drove for a little over an hour in near silence before pulling off the highway and into the parking lot of a tiny diner.

 

“All right,” Dean clapped his hands, “time for some grub.”

 

The hostess showed them to their table. Sam slid into the booth with Castiel slipping in right beside him. The brothers exchanged confused looks, Sam scooting close to the window to give the angel more room. Dean slid into the seat across from them, looking very much like someone just kicked his puppy.

 

A young woman, barely over five feet, wandered over to their table, high ponytail swinging behind her, snapping her gum between pearly white teeth.

 

“Hey! How’re you guys doing today?” The waitress-Marie, according to her nametag- smiled, blue-grey eyes flicking between the three.

 

“I’m great, sweetheart,” Dean flashed the waitress his I’m-fucking-hot-and-I-know-it grin.

 

Marie’s smile faltered a bit, not quite reaching her eyes. Her gaze turned and fixed on Castiel.

 

“How ‘bout you, Sugar?” Marie purred, batting long dark lashes at the angel.

 

Castiel glanced from the waitress to Sam and Dean, then settled back on the waitress.

 

“I’m, uh, very well, Marie. Thank you.”

 

The waitress keened at the angel’s use of her name. Taking down their order, Marie winked at Castiel, running her fingers along his arm as she told the boys she’d be right back to drop off their drinks.

 

“What the fuck was that?” Dean grumbled.

 

“What was what?” Castiel inquired, head tilting to the side.

 

“What?!” Dean scoffed, incredulous. “That waitress was all over you!”

 

Sam ducked his head into his palm, desperately trying to hide a smirk. Amusement danced in the younger Winchester’s eyes, watching his brother slowly lose his cool.

 

“I’m not interested,” stated the angel.

 

Dean rolled his eyes, “Yeah, well, maybe you should tell _her_ that,” he spat, “Looks like she’s ready to devour you.”

 

“Of course she is,” Sam chimed in. He wrapped one arm around the angel’s shoulder, pulling Castiel tight against his body. “He’s sweet, like _sugar_ ,” the younger Winchester mocked, ruffling Castiel’s hair and earning a small smile from the angel.

 

Ten minutes later the scent of bacon filled the diner as Marie made her way to the boys’ table, plates balancing up both arms. She pushed everyone’s plates in front of them, dropping extra napkins on the table and a warmed bottle of maple syrup for Dean’s pancakes.

 

Marie’s eyes scanned over Sam and Castiel, the hunter’s arm still wrapped around the angel’s shoulders. She smiled softly, attempting to mask the disappointment on her face.

 

“Oh, are you guys like, together?”

 

Dean opened his mouth to speak, but Sam answered, cutting off his brother.

 

“Yeah, going on about nine years now,” Sam smiled at Castiel, fingers stroking through the hair at the base of the angel’s head.

 

“Well, aren’t you two adorable,” the waitress smiled brightly again, popping a hip out and resting her hand there.

 

“Thank you, Marie. That’s very kind of you to say.” Castiel replied.

 

Marie pointed her pen accusingly at Sam, blue-grey eyes twinkling, “You better take care of that sweetie; treat him right.”

 

Sam snorted, pulling his arm from around the angel and settling his hand on Castiel’s upper thigh. “Sure thing,” he promised.

 

Marie sauntered away. Sam and Castiel looked at each other briefly before collapsing into laughter. Dean’s body visibly tensed, jaw clenched, white knuckling his silverware.

 

“Happy now, Dean?” Sam asked, body still shaking with laughter.

 

“Why the hell would I be happy?” Dean glared at the two across from him.

 

“Oh, come on, Dean!” Sam said, “Cas wasn’t interested, you clearly were, before she blew you off for Cas. Now’s your chance, man. Go ahead and get her number.”

 

Castiel stared down at his eggs and bacon, not wanting to get in the middle of whatever was going on with the brothers. Dean continued to glare at Sam.

 

“Wow, okay. Whatever,” Sam cut up his egg-white omelet, smirking at his older brother. “Ya know, Dean, jealousy isn’t a good look on you.”

 

“I’m not jealous of her,” Dean mumbled, stabbing harshly at a bite of pancake.

 

Castiel raised his eyes at that, studying Dean’s face.  Sam’s forehead scrunched up in confusion.

 

“I meant Cas, Dean. Jealous of Cas.”

 

Dean shrugged, focusing on his short-stack, “ ‘s what I said.”

 

The boys finished their breakfast, thanking Marie and waving on their way out, except Dean, who just nodded in her direction, not even bothering to make eye contact.

 

At the Impala, Castiel reached for the back door, only to be stopped by Sam’s giant hand over his.

 

“Hey, man. You spent hours in the backseat already. Why don’t you take shotgun and I’ll ride in the back the rest of the way home?” Sam offered.

 

Home. No matter how many times the Winchesters said it, it still felt foreign to the angel. Castiel thinks he could get used to it, though.

 

“Thank you, Sam,” Castiel’s smile reaching all the way up to his eyes.

 

Dean, of course, rolled his eyes and grunted. “Whatever, Samantha, just get in the damn car.”

 

They made it back to the bunker in record time, Dean stealing glances at Castiel the entire drive, but never actually saying anything. In the bunker’s garage, Sam grabbed his bag, making a beeline for the stairs, leaving Castiel alone with Dean. Castiel groaned, hefting his bag onto his shoulder. He didn’t _want_ to be left alone with the disgruntled hunter. Human emotions were still somewhat overwhelming for the angel, and as much as Castiel wanted to be there for his friend, the angel was ‘getting sick of his shit’ as Sam would say.

 

The two walked side by side, Dean stopping at the foot of the staircase, blocking the angel’s path.

 

“So, that was something back at the diner, huh?”

 

Castiel sighed, his fuse getting shorter by the second. Castiel didn’t speak, choosing instead to level the hunter with a ferocious glare. Dean refused to budge, the hunter leaning an elbow against the wall, green eyes laser-focused on blue. Castiel shifted, shoulders squared and chin tipped up defiantly.

 

“What’s your problem, Dean,” the angel snarled, “That the waitress wasn’t flirting with you, or the fact that she was attracted to me?”

 

Dean’s mouth gaped open, the hunter shifting from foot to foot, a flush rising beneath his cheeks, Castiel closed his eyes, calming himself with a few deep breaths before addressing the elder Winchester again.

 

“I don’t know why you are so upset, Dean. I told you I wasn’t interested in her. She’s not exactly my type.”

 

The change in the air was palpable. Immediately, the hunter was in the angel’s face, fingers gliding down the lapels of Castiel’s trench coat.

 

“What is your type, angel?” Dean whispered.

 

“What?” Castiel took a step back. _Hm, so this must be what whiplash felt like._

 

Dean chuckled, “Well, well, well. Look who suddenly grew a ‘personal-space bubble’.”

 

Dean’s eyes darkened, glittering with mischief. He stepped forward toward Castiel again. The two stood breathing in each other’s air. Castiel’s eyes were wide as saucers, heart hammering away in his chest, knots twisting in the angel’s stomach.

 

“What are you interested in, Cas? What do you like?” Dean wet his lips.

 

“F-fr-freckles,” the angel stammered, a little too quickly.

 

“Mm, you like freckles, huh?”

 

“Y-yes.” Castiel felt weak-kneed. Dean was so close. Smelled so good.

 

“Freckles on a cute girl?” Dean questioned.

 

“I told you before, Dean, I am utterly indifferent to sexual orientation and gender.” The angel replied on a shaky breath.

 

“So, cute girl _or_ guy with freckles then?” Forest green eyes roamed over the angel’s body.

 

“Yes,” Castiel murmured, lost in Dean’s scent and the almost feral look on the hunter’s face, “I have no gender preference.”

 

Dean hummed, hands lifting to straighten the other’s crooked tie. “Sam doesn’t have any freckles,” he said, sliding his hands from the tie’s knot down the length of it.

 

Castiel was nearly drowning in sensations; the smell of leather and oil, Dean’s intense stare, the hunter’s hands pressing down the front of his body, tracking the striped tie. He almost didn’t process Dean’s words. Almost. The angel reared back, feeling as though someone had doused him with a bucket of ice water.

 

“ _That_ is what this’s about,” Castiel bit out, “that, what, Sam pretended to be my boyfriend at the diner? That Sam has been _nice_ and _considerate_ to me all day?” Cold blue eyes pinned the hunter where he stood.

 

Castiel didn’t give Dean the chance to reply, shouldering past him and sprinting up the stairs, leaving a stunned Dean Winchester in his wake.

 

“Grow the fuck up, Dean!” Castiel growled, shooting the hunter one last look before quickly making his way to his room. The angel slammed the door, locking it behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on Tumblr [LoverAwakened](http://www.lover-awakened.tumblr.com)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean seeks out Castiel to apologize for being a jerk but Castiel refuses to see him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took me way longer to get out than the previous 4 chapters, but after starting the chapter, scraping it to go in a different direction, and then my daughter winding up in urgent care for an ear infection, I finally got around to finishing it and I must say, I am extremely happy with how it turned out. I hope you enjoy it as well.
> 
> Castiel's texts are in italics and Dean's texts are in bold.  
> ean)
> 
> FANART for this chapter by the wonderful Destiel-Aye can be found [here](http://destiel-aye.tumblr.com/post/162924398884/a-little-fanart-for-helping-hand)

Knuckles rapt loudly against Castiel’s door. The angel looked up from where he sat on his bed.

 

“Cas?”

 

Dean. Castiel huffed, turning his attention back to the Tetris game on his phone. He had been in his room for several hours now; one of the perks of being an angel was that he had no need to eat or use the bathroom. Castiel crossed his socked feet at the ankles.

 

“Cas, come on, man. I know you’re in there.”

 

He continued to play Tetris, ignoring the hunter. Castiel was still angry with Dean and he’d be damned if he was going to give in to the hunter’s pleas.

 

“Damn it, Cas, open the door!” Dean growled. “We need to talk!”

 

Castiel hurriedly typed out a message on his phone and hit send, cracking a small smile when he heard a ‘ting’ on the other side of the door.

 

“C’mon, Cas. I just want…did…did you just fucking _text_ me while I’m standing right here?” Dean asked, incredulous.

 

To: Dean  
 _Yes_

 

“What. The. Fuck.”

 

To: Dean  
 _Please go away_

 

“No, Cas. I just wanna talk, buddy.”

 

Anger flashed in Castiel’s eyes. Buddy? Was he serious? After everything that just went down in the garage, Dean was going with _buddy_?

 

Castiel leapt out of bed. Heat scorched beneath the angel’s skin. The bedroom suddenly felt too small. He felt like the walls were closing in on him and he couldn’t breath-which he supposed was silly because technically, the angel didn’t need to breathe in the first place. Castiel began pacing the room, fingers jabbing on the keypad on his phone’s screen.

 

To: Dean  
 _I dont want to talk_

 

Castiel continued pacing. He pulled off his trench coat and suit jacket, throwing them haphazardly across the back of the desk chair. He was untucking his dress shirt and pulling the knot loose in his tie when his phone chirped.

 

From: Dean  
 **U gonna pout in ur room all day?**

 

Castiel threaded his fingers through his hair, tugging lightly. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to will the hunter away with his mind. His phone chirped again.

 

From: Dean  
 **I can sit out here all day. Im not leavin til u talk 2 me**

 

Well, so much for wishing the Winchester away. Castiel sighed, deciding to bite the bullet as it were, and yanked open the door. He stood there, glaring down at Dean who was sitting on the floor, back against the wall and knees pulled to his chest. It looked like he was typing something on his phone. Dean looked up, arching an eyebrow.

 

“You gonna actually talk to me or you just gonna to text me to my face?”

 

Castiel scowled, wanting to wipe the smug look off Dean’s face, but clamped down on his anger before he did something he’d regret.

 

“You said you wanted to talk,” Castiel crossed his arms, leaning a hip against the doorframe, “Speak. You have five minutes.”

 

Dean clamored to his feet. “Can I come in or did you wanna do this in the hallway?”

 

Castiel gave an exaggerated sigh, head falling back as he rolled his eyes. He supposed he could let Dean in his room, though, that might make it harder for Castiel to stick to his five-minute time frame and even harder to get Dean to leave. He supposed he could always manhandle the hunter out of the room using his angelic strength if it came down to it. Castiel stepped aside, making a sweeping gesture with his arm, letting Dean inside.

 

“Thanks.” Dean smiled.

 

“Uh huh. What do you want?”

 

“Wow, grumpy much?”

 

Castiel turned on his heel, blue eyes dark and dangerous. “You’re being an ass; I think I’m entitled to some grumpiness.”

 

Dean put his hands up in surrender, backing slowly toward the center of Castiel’s bedroom. “Okay, okay. Fair enough.”

 

“Four minutes.”

 

Alright, alright,” Dean put his hands on his hips, his lower lip swollen and red from constant licking and biting, probably trying to find the right way to phrase whatever thoughts were bouncing around his brain.

 

“I just wanted to apologize. I’ve been acting like a jerk and…and I’m sorry, Cas.”

 

“Why?”

 

Dean looked confused. “Uh, cuz I was acting like a jerk,” he said, hesitantly.

 

Castiel pinched the bridge of his nose. One day Dean Winchester was going to make the angel roll his eyes so hard they’d fall right out of his head. “Not ‘why are you apologizing’, Dean, why were you behaving like a jerk?” Castiel snapped.

 

“Oh. I dunno, man— “

 

“Three minutes.”

 

“Fuck, Cas, can you settle down for a minute? Jeez.”

 

“No. Three minutes, Dean.”

 

Dean stepped toward the angel, his expression softening. “I dunno why I act like that, Cas,” he whispered, shuffling his feet, “sometimes I can’t help this…this…”

 

“Petty jealousy?” Castiel supplied.

 

“Yeah,” Dean lowered his eyes.

 

Some of the tension started to leave Castiel’s body. He looked at Dean, the hunter’s head hung, green eyes swimming with regret. “You don’t need to be jealous, Dean,” the angel’s voice low and calm.

 

“No?”

 

“No. Especially not of your brother.” Dean locked eyes with Castiel, something like hope shining in those emerald orbs. “Sam and I are very close. He’s my friend. One of my best friends and I’m very fond of him,” Castiel swallowed, his voice cracking as Dean stepped impossibly closer. “It’s not what I have with you, though. You’re my best friend, yes, but…it’s different. It’s,” Castiel tried to find the right word, “it’s special. Profound.”

 

Castiel’s eyes dipped down to Dean’s mouth. His lips looked so soft. So inviting. He wondered how they would taste. Dean and Castiel hovered inches apart. They stood in silence, the two men breathing in each other’s air.

 

Castiel’s brain was fogging. He couldn’t think straight. Dean was too close. Smelled too good. He didn’t trust himself not to do something stupid.

 

“I believe your five minutes are up,” Castiel said, breaking the trance.

 

“Do you accept my apology?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Dean nodded, patting the angel’s shoulder as he passed to leave. “Thanks for lettin’ me in, Cas.”

 

“You’re welcome. Stop being an ass.”

 

Dean chuckled, “Sure, Cas. See ya later.”

 

“Goodbye, Dean. I’ll see you later.”

 

Castiel gently closed the door behind the hunter, feeling considerably less angry than he had before their talk. He was still pissed about the elder Winchester’s behavior, but perhaps with this little talk, Dean would stop worrying that his best friend was being taken away from him. Castiel knew that Dean has had an endless supply of friends and family taken from him during his life, and in Dean’s mother’s case- leaving of her own volition, so he was determined to show Dean that he was not going anywhere, even when Castiel got angry and they fought.

 

The angel took his phone out of his pocket, clicking on the message icon, grinning when he saw another text from Dean.  

 

From: Dean  
 **im glad we talked**

 

To: Dean  
 _me too_

 

Castiel smiled as he crawled onto his bed, fluffing the pillows and situating them between his lower back and the headboard. He sat back, crossing his ankles and started playing the next level of Tetris, a sense of relief washing over him.

* * *

 

The next few days passed with relative ease. Sam searched for any new cases they might be able to take. When Sam wasn’t on his laptop looking for a case, Castiel was using the computer to search for any sign that Lucifer had come back. And Dean, true to his word, was refraining from acting like a giant ass. In fact, Castiel noticed that Dean seemed to gravitate toward him whenever they were in the same room, the hunter even going out of his way to make small talk or see if Castiel needed help with anything.

 

The two of them took a trip to the grocery store to stock the bunker’s kitchen to appease Sam.

 

_I can’t live on burgers, Dean!_

 

_Whatever. Cas and I will go get your water, juice, and rabbit food, you fucking girl._

 

It was a Sunday afternoon, so the grocery store was packed, each aisle crawling with people pushing their carts full of food and in most cases, whining children. The angel stuck close to Dean’s side. He was still awkward in normal social situations and Dean made no move to correct him about ‘personal space’. Dean pushed the cart through the store, going down each aisle. Castiel remained attached at the hunter’s hip, brushing shoulders occasionally and trying his best to give Dean opinions whenever the elder Winchester asked.

 

“Dean,” the angel sighed, after about twenty minutes of shopping, “you know I don’t have a lot of experience with the variety of human foods. I wasn’t human that long and since I got my grace back a few years ago, everything just tastes like molecules.” He looked down, picking at his cuticles. “I don’t understand why you continue to ask my opinion on these things.”

 

An elderly woman gave Castiel a side glance, permanent scowl set on her face. Dean laughed, throwing an arm around Castiel’s shoulder. He pulled the angel in close. A shiver ran down Castiel’s body as the hunter’s lips grazed over his ear as he whispered.

 

“Dude, watch how loud you talk about being ‘not human’. Tends to freak most human’s out.”

 

“Mhmm,” Castiel turned his head, discreetly sniffing Dean’s hair. He smelled _so_ good. “Duly noted.”

 

Dean’s head snapped to the right. His green eyes sparkled and he grinned. Dean grabbed the lapel of Castiel’s trench coat, dragging the angel down the baking aisle, abandoning their grocery cart.

 

“Oh, man, Cas. Check this out!” Dean was practically giddy, bouncing as he walked up to a table set up at the end of the aisle, dragging Castiel with each peppy step. “A chocolate fondue fountain!” he shrieked.

 

Castiel looked at Dean, puzzled. “Uh, okay.”

 

“Hello, there! How are you guys doin’ today?” A cheerful lady in her early to mid-forties greeted them, dark hair pulled back in a bun away from her round face, eyes as dark as the milk chocolate spilling over the tiers of the machine.

 

“Hi,” Dean replied.

 

“Hello, ma’am,” Castiel nodded, leaning in close to Dean and speaking low so that only the elder Winchester could hear, “what are you doing?”

 

Dean ignored Castiel, his attention on the liquid chocolate.

 

“Did you wanna try some?” Fondue Lady asked, holding up a small dish of strawberries for Dean.

 

“Oh my God, yes!”

 

While Dean stuffed his face with the strawberries he ran under the chocolate fountain, Fondue Lady began giving a speech.

 

“This little machine is great for parties. It comes in the stainless steel one you see here, and it’s also available in black, brown, and white.” She grinned a big, toothy grin, eyes focused on Dean.

 

Dean’s cheeks puffed out from all the strawberries in his mouth. “Mmm, Caf, you goa twy thif.” He said around a mouth full of chocolate-strawberry mush.

 

Castiel looked at Dean, mildly disgusted. “Why? You know I can’t taste anything. We literally _just_ had this conversation.”

 

Fondue Lady raised her brows, an amused expression on her face.

 

“He, uh, burned his tongue on some really hot coffee right before we came in here,” Dean feigned a laugh, grabbing Castiel’s elbow and tugging at it gently, “Excuse us for just a sec.”

 

“Sure thing, honey.” She winked.

 

Castiel glared at her.

 

“What the hell, man?! You can’t keep saying shit like that!” Dean hissed, turning them away from Fondue Lady.

 

“I don’t know why you keep asking me these things anyway,” Castiel snapped, “you know I can’t taste food the way you do!”

 

Dean’s eyes grew wide, his pink lips forming an O. Castiel tried not to focus on the hunter’s seductive mouth. “Maybe you can.”

 

Castiel shook his head in disbelief. “What?”

 

“You can control your grace, right? I mean, that’s how you angels use your powers. Control and focus?”

 

Castiel nodded, waiting for the elder Winchester to continue.

 

“Well, maybe you could suppress your ‘angelness’.”

 

“Excuse me?” Castiel huffed.

 

“Hear me out. Maybe you could suppress your grace enough to taste food with your vessel,” Castiel winced, “body, sorry, your body. I mean, you’ve mentioned before about how Hannah liked to take showers even though she didn’t need to, but because she _wanted_ to feel the water on her skin. It’s the same kinda thing, right?” Dean asked, hopeful.

 

Castiel shuddered at the memory of his sister stripping in front of him in their shared motel several years prior. “Yeah, seeing her naked that one time was fairly unpleasant.”

 

“YOU SAW HER NAKED?!”

 

Several people near them stopped immediately at Dean’s outburst, a few, including Fondue Lady, strained their necks trying to hear the rest of the conversation.

 

Dean rubbed his hands over his face, taking in a deep breath. “Fuck. Fuck. Sorry, Cas I-I didn’t mean to snap.”

 

“Why does that bother you? I’ve seen you naked too.”

 

“It doesn’t bother me. I’m not bothered I…when did you see _me_ naked?”

 

Castiel shrugged. “Did you think I stitched your body back together with my eyes closed after I pulled you from Hell?” Castiel selectively left out the fact that he had seen him masturbating in the shower last week.

 

“Yeah, okay smartass.”

 

“I don’t know if I can do that with my grace, Dean. I don’t know if it will work even if I _can_ do it.” Dean’s face fell. The hunter looked defeated. Guilt knotted in Castiel’s chest. “I guess I could try,” the angel blurted out. Dean’s entire face lit up, his smile rivaling the brightness of the Sun. It made Castiel feel warm and tingly. He’d do anything to keep that happy look on Dean’s face. “Yeah, sure,” Castiel nodded vigorously, “I could try that.”

 

“Awesome.”

 

Castiel let Dean drag him back to the table where Fondue Lady was eyeing Castiel suspiciously.

 

“You boys okay?”

 

“Yes, ma’am.” Dean snatched a strawberry from the dish. He nodded at Castiel. “We’ll start with just a strawberry, okay?”

 

Castiel reached his hand out to take the fruit at the same time Dean raised the strawberry to Castiel’s mouth. The angel glanced between Dean and Fondue Lady, who blushed and sucked her lower lip in her mouth, struggling not to smile.

 

“Open up, Cas.”

 

Castiel still had his arm outstretched, reaching for nothing. Feeling like an idiot, the angel quickly pulled his arm back to his side. He took a deep breath and focused on dimming his grace. It felt like little electric shocks running along his nerves until finally there was just a dull hum. Castiel opened his mouth, Dean slowly put the strawberry between his lips. He bit down, running his tongue over the fruit, feeling its coolness. A burst of sweet tartness filled his senses as Castiel carefully chewed the strawberry. Sweetness. That’s what he tasted. Not the individual fructose molecules. His eyes bulged. He could taste the strawberry. He could actually taste it!

 

“Good, right?” Dean smiled.

 

“Yes, it’s delicious.” Castiel beamed.

 

“That’s nothing,” Dean snorted, “wait til you try it dipped in chocolate.” He grabbed another strawberry, swiping it under the falling chocolate and held the dripping fruit to Castiel’s lips. “Open,” Dean commanded.

 

Castiel obeyed. The perfect combination of sweet and tart danced across his tongue, some of the warm chocolate escaping the corner of Castiel’s mouth and running down his chin. Dean reached up with his thumb, swiping from the angel’s chin to his bottom lip, catching the dribbling chocolate. Castiel sucked Dean’s thumb into his mouth without thinking, eyes drifting shut as he licked up and down the length of Dean’s thumb before sucking with his mouth, hard. A soft moan escaped Castiel as released Dean’s thumb from his mouth. Castiel’s eyes fluttered open.

 

Fondue Lady’s jaw was hanging open, brown eyes darting around nervously, looking anywhere except at the two men in front of her. Dean’s eyes, however, were focused on Castiel, pupils blown wide in a lustful gaze the angel was certain matched his own.

 

“I uh…I like the chocolate.” Castiel murmured. He licked his lips, clearing them of any remaining chocolate. Emerald eyes hungrily followed the movement. Fondue Lady cleared her throat, pulling the angel and hunter from their thoughts.

 

“Yes, well, I can see that, dear.” She smoothed down the front of her apron, gathering her composure. “Well, strawberries aren’t the only thing you could use,” She smiled sweetly, “you could try marshmallows or pretzels, heck, you could even use cheese instead of chocolate if you wanted. This thing is a real hit at parties. And it’s only $29.99.”

 

Castiel couldn’t speak. He couldn’t believe he just sucked on Dean’s thumb. His thumb! Castiel briefly wondered if it was possible for an angel to die of embarrassment. Finding his voice, the angel shot Fondue Lady an uninterested glance.

 

“No, thank you.” Castiel tried to turn, but Dean stopped him with a hand to the forearm and a pout on his face. “Dean, we don’t throw parties. When are you ever going to use this machine?”

 

“Aw, c’mon, Cas. This fountain is awesome!”

 

“Dean,” Castiel spoke slowly and concisely as if he were speaking to a small child, “there are only you and I and your brother at home.”

 

“Home,” Dean repeated, looking down. His voice was too quiet.

 

“Yes, Dean. Our home.” Castiel laid his hand over Dean’s, still resting on Castiel’s forearm, and gave it a squeeze.

 

“Your boyfriend seems to really want one.” Fondue Lady sing-songed.

 

Castiel nearly choked on his saliva. “Oh. No. No, we aren’t— “

 

“Aw, c’mon, _Sweetheart_. Please?” Dean begged in a falsetto, lacing his fingers with the angel’s and batting those ridiculously long blonde lashes.

 

“We don’t need one, Dean.” He growled.

 

“But, Honeybunch!” Dean mock pouted.

 

Castiel rolled his eyes and sighed. Fine. He’d play along. “No, Darling.”

 

“But Pookie!”

 

“No.”

 

“Baby?”

 

“No.”

 

“Please, Honeybee?”

 

That nickname tripped Castiel up a bit, but he recovered quickly. Fondue Lady watched, enraptured, her head whipping back and forth as the two continued their little banter.

 

“We are shopping for your _brother_ , Sweetness.”

 

Dean continued to bat his dumb lashes, skimming fingers along Castiel’s tie and absolutely _not_ causing butterflies in the angel’s stomach with all the terms of endearment Dean was tossing at him.

 

“Fine.” Castiel relented.

 

Dean snaked his arms around the inside of Castiel’s coat wrapping the angel in a hug and causing his breath to hitch as Dean rubbed his lower back, fingers digging into the cotton dress shirt.

 

“Thanks, babe!” Dean replied, shit-eating grin plastered to the hunter’s face.

 

Fondue Lady waved as they walked back to their abandoned grocery cart, fondue machine box in Dean’s arms.

 

“Hey, Cas.”

 

“Yes, _Monkey_?” Castiel sang, elbowing the elder Winchester.

 

“Very funny, ha ha. You, uh, you might wanna grab another cart from the front.”

 

“What! Why?” Castiel stopped in his tracks.

 

“You’ll see,” Dean smirked.

 

* * *

 

 

The ride back to the bunker was quiet, but pleasant and Castiel couldn’t help but feel thrilled at the permanent smile etched into the elder Winchester’s face knowing he was the one who put it there. Castiel helped Dean unload the dozens of grocery bags and carry them into the bunker.

 

Sam sat in the library, feet crossed on the tabletop and his nose buried in some dusty old tome.

 

“Hey, guys,” Sam muttered, giving Dean and Castiel a cursory glance as they headed into the kitchen. The younger Winchester’s head snapped up as he took in the sheer amount of bags the two were carrying to the bunker’s kitchen.

 

“What the fuck, Dean?!” Sam blurted, jumping out of the chair and chasing after them into the kitchen. “What is all this?”

 

“Uh, food, Sammy.”

 

Sam gave Dean his best bitch-face to date, glaring at his older brother. “No shit, Sherlock. I mean, why the fuck did you buy so much damn food?” Sam looked around at all the bags littering the kitchen island, the countertop, and lined against the bottom cupboards on the floor. “How much did you spend?”

 

“Four hundred bucks.”

 

“WHAT?!” Sam shouted. His face turned red and a small vein began to pop out of his forehead. “Why?” the younger Winchester snapped.

 

Dean sighed, not even bothering to turn and look at his brother as he dropped the bell peppers, romaine lettuce, and scallions in the crisper of the refrigerator, “Because Cas here is working on suppressing his grace to taste food like we do,” Dean turned to Sam, then, expression serious, “And I’m gonna make him everything.”

 

The brothers stared at one another in tense silence for several minutes. Castiel thought back to his and Dean’s banter at the grocery store that seemed to amuse the hunter and Castiel decided to continue it to try and lighten the mood.

 

“I’m going to be up in my room, Beloved. Let me know when dinner’s ready?”

 

Sam was staring at Castiel like he had grown a second head.

 

“Sure thing, Angel,” Dean replied, voice flat.

 

Castiel gulped and hastily made his way out of the kitchen, leaving the brothers to their staring contest. The last thing Castiel heard as he rounded the corner, heading for his bedroom, was the younger Winchester’s confused voice.

 

“Did Cas just call you Beloved?”

 

Castiel smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on Tumblr [LoverAwakened](http://www.lover-awakened.tumblr.com)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Team Free Will have a nice home cooked meal, thanks to Dean. Later that night, Castiel thinks Dean is having another nightmare.

The three sat around the kitchen island in silence. Dean had called them to the kitchen for dinner; the scent of homemade burgers permeating the surrounding space.

 

“So,” Dean set the last of the dishes on the table, “we got my famous burgers, pasta salad, corn-on-the-cob, cinnamon apples, two kinds of potato chips, pretzel sticks, and…oh, yeah,” Dean grabbed a large plastic bowl from the refrigerator, plopping it down on the island with the others, “a green leaf salad with almonds and shit for the princess,” Dean smirked.

 

A smile pulled at one corner of Castiel’s mouth and he dipped his head, doing his best not to laugh at Sam’s expense. Sam shot his brother a bitch-face, grabbing the salad and putting a heaping pile onto his plate, never taking his eyes off Dean. Dean chuckled softly, fixing a plate with a burger and a little bit of everything else crammed on it, walking around the island and set the plate down in front of Castiel. Dean’s hand skimmed across the back of Castiel’s shoulders, earning a curious eyebrow raise from Sam.

 

“It’s dinner time, man,” Dean curled his fingers around the collar of Castiel’s trench coat and gave a gentle tug, “C’mon, take this thing off.”

 

Castiel felt a blush rising in his cheeks under the scrutiny of Sam’s stare, who had paused with a forkful of salad halfway to his mouth.

 

“I, uh, usually wear my trench coat around the bunker, Dean,” the angel turned his head, confused expression on his face.

 

“What the hell, Dean?” Sam finally spoke.

 

Dean didn’t spare his brother a glance, instead, all his focus on the angel whose coat he currently had his hands inside. “Teachable moments, Sammy. Teachable moments. Now, come on, Cas, let’s get this thing off you.”

 

Castiel leaned forward, still confused as Dean slid his hands underneath the suit jacket, caressing the angel’s arms as he peeled away the jacket and coat. Castiel looked back and forth between the brothers, not knowing what to do in this situation. It felt extremely intimate for Dean to be, essentially, stripping him, but the hunter’s face was a blank mask.

 

“You’re an idiot,” Sam snorted, returning his attention to dinner.

 

“Hey, Cas is like people, and people don’t wear coats twenty-four seven and especially not when they’re eating.” Dean fixed himself a plate, taking a seat across from the angel.

 

“I’m like people.” Castiel deadpanned, holding Dean’s gaze, the tension palpable in the air.

 

Sam cleared his throat, “So, uh, Cas. Dean says you can taste food and stuff now or something?”

 

Castiel looked at the younger Winchester, thankful for the slight change of subject. “Um, yes. Although, so far I’ve only done it the one time with the chocolate dipped strawberry at the grocery store.” He fidgeted in his seat, pulling at the knot in his tie. He glanced around the room nervously before settling his gaze on the plate full of food in front of him. Castiel swallowed thickly, pushing around the pasta salad with his fork.

 

“So, how’s it work?” Sam asked, shoveling another forkful of salad into his mouth.

 

Castiel worried his lower lip between his teeth. “I-I need to focus my energy to suppress my grace until I can barely feel it, only allowing myself to experience sensations with this human body.”

 

“Your body,” Dean interrupted.

 

“Yes,” Castiel frowned, “ _my_ body.”

 

“Huh,” Sam said.

 

“Well,” Dean clapped his hands, wide grin on his face, green eyes shining with excitement, “you gonna try your dinner, man?!”

 

Castiel picked up the burger. Closing his eyes, he began to focus on his grace. He felt the powerful crackle of electricity coursing through each nerve in his body. Focusing on slowing the energy down, the zooming pulses soon became a soft buzzing, and eventually a dull thrumming in his body.

 

“Cas? You alright, man?”

 

The angel heard something being whipped across the table.

 

“Shut the fuck up, Sammy, he’s concentrating!”

 

Eyes still closed, Castiel took a large bite of the burger, chewing thoughtfully. The flavors from the ground beef and the spices Dean had used exploded in his mouth. Castiel moaned, loudly, taking another bite of the juicy burger. He licked his lips, moaning some more, and sucked the juices from his fingers. When he finally opened his eyes, Sam was staring at him slack-jawed. Dean averted his eyes and the angel could swear the elder Winchester was blushing.

 

“So, you, uh, want the room for yourself, or…” Sam trailed off.

 

Castiel’s eyes widened, his mouth falling open in shock, realizing what he must have sounded like, but before he could apologize for being inappropriate, Sam doubled over, hazel eyes watering and his whole body shook, laughter echoing off the walls. The younger Winchester clapped him on the shoulder and wiped the tears from his eyes, face beet red.

 

“I’m just joking, Cas. I’m glad you can taste food now. That’s…that’s awesome, dude.”

 

Sam smiled at him and Castiel relaxed, feeling less awkward than before.

 

“Hey, for lunch tomorrow I can make you a peanut butter and grape jelly sandwich. I know it was your favorite when you were human.” Sam grinned.

 

Castiel’s heart swelled and he tried to speak over the lump in his throat. “You…you remember?”

 

“’Course, man! You’re not exactly forgettable, Cas.” Sam smiled sweetly, nudging the angel playfully with his elbow.

 

Castiel ignored the stinging behind his eyes and grinned like an idiot. He took another bite of the burger, returning his attention to Dean. “Thif buhguh if amafing.”

 

Dean laughed, “Don’t talk with your mouth full, dude, it’s disgusting.”

 

Castiel grabbed a noodle, flinging it across the table at Dean’s face, “You’re one to talk, Dean! How many strawberries were crammed in your mouth when you tried to converse with me at the store?” The angel teased.

 

“Shut it.” Dean flung the noodle back at Castiel, who stuck out his tongue in reply.

 

“Okay, okay, children,” Sam intervened, “that’s enough,” he laughed.

 

They finished dinner, chatting about nothing in particular. Castiel ate everything Dean put on his plate and even snatched some off Sam’s plate too. Dean beamed with pride, though, whether at Castiel snaking food off his brother’s plate or the fact that Castiel enjoyed his food so much, the angel wasn’t sure.

 

Castiel sat back in the kitchen chair listening to the brothers argue about various things, including what does and does not constitute a burger.

 

_There’s no such thing as a Turkey Burger._

 

_Yes, there is, Dean!_

 

 _It’s not a_ real _burger!_

 

After dinner was done, Castiel cleared the table, Sam washed the dishes since Dean cooked, and Castiel retreated to the library with Sam to do some research while Dean headed to his room for the night.

 

Several hours passed before Castiel decided he couldn’t look at the computer screen any longer. Stretching, he stood up, saying goodnight to Sam, and grabbed his suit jacket and trench coat from a nearby chair, folding it over one arm, and headed toward the bedrooms. Earlier, after dinner, Castiel had tried to put his coat back on, but Dean rolled his eyes and tsk’d the angel, saying _‘people don’t wear coats around the house, Cas’_ , to which Castiel had scowled, but kept his coat off anyway.

 

Walking down the hall, coats draped over his arm, Castiel pulled up a playlist of classical music on his phone, thinking that should be enough to relax him for a few hours, when his thoughts were interrupted by whimpers coming from Dean’s room. Fearing Dean was having the nightmares again, Castiel cracked open the door to check on him. Like a few weeks ago, when Castiel had burst into Dean’s room during one of the hunter’s nightmares, the room was dark except for the sliver of fluorescent light cast over Dean’s bed from the hallway. Unlike last time, however, Dean was not lying on top of the blanket in sweatpants tossing and turning from a dream. No. What Castiel saw in Dean’s bed had him frozen where he stood, unblinking, mouth hanging open.

 

The hunter lay naked and writhing on his mattress, eyes half-lidded and full of lust. Dean’s lips were parted, the elder Winchester gripping himself, quickly striping his cock and making the most delicious noises. Dean turned his head, locking eyes with the angel as he let out another horrifically pornographic moan. Castiel just stood there as shock, embarrassment, and arousal warred within him.

 

“Mmm hey, Angel,” Dean purred seductively. He clicked on the small lamp on the nightstand, filling the bedroom with a soft glow, and slid down to the bottom of the bed. “Are you just gonna stand there and watch or are you gonna get that sweet ass over here and lend me a hand?” He laid back, lazily stroking his cock and stared the angel down with a hunger in those green eyes Castiel had never seen before.

 

Castiel’s own eyes went wide with surprise at Dean’s suggestion. He turned looking behind him, and then back again at Dean. Was his mind playing tricks on him? He heard that humans sometimes pinch themselves when they think they might be dreaming. Then again, Castiel doesn’t sleep, so…

 

Another lecherous moan sounded from Dean as the hunter bit his lip and arched his back off the bed. “Castiel!”

 

And that’s it. That’s the straw that broke the camel’s back, because Dean, moaning the angel’s full name with a blissed-out look on his face, snapped him out of his daze and sent a heat swirling low in his gut. Using one foot, he kicked the door closed behind him, dropping his trench coat and suit jacket in a heap on the concrete floor, stalking over to the foot of Dean’s bed. He stood over Dean, breath coming out in huffs. A pointed tongue swept out to wet his lips.

 

Dean removed his hand from his cock, legs falling open wider, an invitation that Castiel accepted. Lowering himself to his knees, Castiel fit himself between Dean’s parted legs, leaning over the edge of the bed. Dean’s breath hitched as the angel ran his palms up and down the inside of the hunter’s thighs.

 

How long had Castiel fantasized about this? How long had the angel wanted him; this righteous, glorious, beautiful man?

 

The room was closing in on him again and he couldn’t breathe. Castiel sat unmoving between Dean’s legs, hands still planted on the hunter’s inner thighs, only now he was gripping them for support.

 

Dean must have noticed the panic on Castiel’s face because he rushed to a sitting position, his voice soft and calm, attempting to soothe him.

 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, Angel.”

 

Dean brushed his thumb across Castiel’s lips, his expression warm and sincere. Using his other hand, Dean stroked his fingers through Castiel’s thick, dark hair, trailing down his neck, and sweeping his hand over the angel’s shoulder before coming around front to loosen the tie around his neck. Dean’s gaze dropped down to the angel’s mouth, other hand still cradling Castiel’s cheek. He swiped his thumb across the angel’s lip once more, staring at Castiel with such intensity, such want, but also a patience the angel was grateful for.

 

Castiel felt fire in his veins and lightning shooting along his nerves. He still couldn’t breathe. He was astonished to realize it was only his body’s reaction to Dean’s touch. The grace inside him crackled and sizzled. There were so many emotions swirling inside him, he thought he might drown in them. And to top it off, there was a battering of physical sensations and the combination of it all overloaded his system.

 

Without thinking, Castiel surged forward, claiming the hunter’s lips in a passionate kiss. He wasn’t very experienced when it came to kissing, but he was definitely making up for it with enthusiasm. He kissed Dean like he was starving for it, and maybe he was. Passion, need, hunger; the emotions gnawed at Castiel. Threading his fingers through Dean’s dark blonde strands, he gripped tight. Dean moaned in approval.

 

Dean’s cock hung heavy between his legs, the head flushed purple, precum dripping and leaving a large wet spot across the front of Castiel’s white Oxford shirt. Dean pulled back from their kiss, licking and sucking and biting marks along the tan column of Castiel’s throat. The hunter murmured Castiel’s name into his skin with every press of his mouth.

 

He should stop this. He should ask Dean what’s happening between them. The last thing Castiel wanted was to ruin their friendship or make things awkward between the two of them. Fear and panic crept into the back of Castiel’s mind, but then Dean settled his mouth over the angel’s, plunging his tongue in and out in a quick, filthy rhythm, so Castiel forced himself to push the negative thoughts away. He didn’t want to think about anything; he wanted to savor this moment with Dean.

 

“Cas,” The hunter pleaded, “Touch me. Please!”

 

Castiel groaned hearing Dean beg for him, his own erection stiff and demanding attention. He rubbed one hand over his clothed cock, gently laying Dean back on the bed, then wrapped his other hand around Dean’s shaft, carefully beginning to stroke the length.

 

“Oh, fuck, Cas,” Dean’s eyes squeezed shut, hands fisting the blankets as he rolled his hips, fucking up into the tight channel of Castiel’s fist.

 

The hunter looked absolutely debauched; sweat-soaked hair stuck out in all directions, making Castiel rather glad he was growing it out a bit. Dean’s skin was flushed a beautiful pink, nipples tight, rosy buds Castiel longed to take between his teeth. The dark ink of his anti-possession tattoo had the angel wanting to trace the design with his tongue.

 

But Castiel remained leaning over Dean, taking in all his minute facial expressions and body language, as the angel continued to glide his hand over the hunter’s erection in quickening strokes. Was this even real?

 

“Cas?”

 

“Yes, Dean?” He replied, gravelly voice even rougher from arousal.

 

Dean’s lids drooped, cheeks a bright pink, breath coming in shallow pants as he opened his mouth to speak. “Cas? Ugghhhh! I need…I need…”

 

Castiel swiped his fingers through the precum, smearing it around the head of Dean’s cock, relishing the sharp inhale of breath from the hunter. “What is it, Dean? What do you need? Anything.” Castiel pressed soft kisses to the inside of Dean’s thighs, teasing Dean with little kitten licks as he got higher and higher up the hunter’s leg until he reached just below the juncture where leg met pelvis, and then sucked a bruising mark.

 

“AHH! You! I need you, Cas.” Dean jerked his hips up and down, unable to keep still, hands going back and forth between grabbing the sheets and yanking his own hair. His eyes were nearly swallowed by black, only a thin ring of emerald remaining.

 

The pressure in Castiel’s groin was too much, and he rolled his hips onto the edge of the bed searching for some kind of relief. “You have me, Dean,” he panted, voice absolutely wrecked, “I’m right here. And I will _never_ leave you, Dean. Ever.” Locking eyes with the hunter, Castiel sealed his mouth once again over Dean’s inner thigh and bit down. Hard.

 

Dean howled, eyes shut tight, and clawed at Castiel’s shoulders, the fabric of the angel’s shirt bunching in his fingers. He felt Dean’s cock pulse in his hand, stream after stream of warm semen splashing Dean’s chest and stomach and running over Castiel’s fist, which was still slowly stroking Dean through his release.

 

Dean came down slowly, a satisfied smile settling on his face. “C’mere, Cas. Your turn.”

 

Castiel grimaced, “Oh, no, Dean…that’s-that’s not n-necessary,” he stammered, trying to shift his hips out of reach of Dean’s hands, but the hunter was too quick, hand landing directly on the enormous wet spot covering the front of Castiel’s slacks.

 

The elder Winchester’s eyebrows shot to his hairline. “Oh, I see,” Dean grinned. He squeezed Castiel’s softening cock through the wet pants, pulling a low moan from the angel. Dean leaned forward capturing the angel’s lips with his teeth and tugged playfully, soothing the bite with his tongue.

 

“You came just from jerking me off, Cas? That’s so fucking hot,” Dean growled, licking his way into the angel’s mouth and holding him in place by the back of the head, swallowing all the little noises Castiel made.

 

They pulled apart after several minutes, lust quickly falling away to happy, shy smiles. Dean fiddled with his fingers in his lap, gaze bouncing around the room.

 

“So, uh, Cas. Did you wanna…ya know, stay in here tonight. With me?” Dean ran a hand back and forth over the top of his head, struggling around the words. “I mean, uh, you don’t have to or anything. I just thought, maybe…never mind.”

 

“I’d be happy to stay the night with you, Dean.” Castiel waved his hand, using his grace to clean them both up.

 

“Awesome. Thanks, Cas!”

 

Castiel smiled, standing to kick off his shoes. He made quick work of undoing his shirt and now-clean pants, folding each item of clothing, including the suit jacket and trench coat from the floor, and set the neatly folded pile on top Dean’s dresser.

 

Dean pulled on a pair of gray boxer briefs, settling in on the left side of the bed. Castiel stood in his too big white boxer shorts, hesitating momentarily before finally pulling back the covers on the right side of the bed, and slid in beside Dean. The coolness of the cotton sheets felt good against his heated skin and Castiel briefly wondered if there were more pleasurable-or rather, human- things he could experience if he practiced more with the grace suppression.

 

Dean’s content sigh pulled him out of his thoughts, the hunter rolling on his side to face Castiel, snaking a hand up the angel’s side before letting it settle on his chest.

 

“G’night, Cas,” Dean mumbled, sleepily. He shifted forward, nudging his head underneath the angel’s arm, forcing Castiel to lift it to wrap around Dean as the hunter settled his head into the crook of Castiel’s arm.

 

“Goodnight, Beloved,” Castiel whispered, kissing the top of Dean’s head, but the hunter was already fast asleep.

 

Now that the physical pleasure was gone and the room was silent, panic slowly crept back in. He tightened his arm around Dean, replaying the nights’ events in his mind. They had been intimate. What did this make them now? Lovers? Boyfriends? Surely this wasn’t a one-time occurrence. Castiel made a mental note to ask Dean about their change in relationship in the morning.

 

It was still some time until dawn and the wait seemed terrifying to Castiel tonight. A thought occurred to him as he watched the rise and fall of Dean’s chest while he slept; perhaps Castiel might be able to fall asleep with his hunter. Or, at the very least, a deep meditative state reminiscent of human sleep, if he emptied his mind of all else. Closing his eyes, he focused on the inhale and exhale of his own breath. Soon he felt the hum of grace fading. Castiel could do this. He could fall asleep with his beloved in his arms, and in that moment, the angel wanted nothing more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on Tumblr [LoverAwakened](http://www.lover-awakened.tumblr.com)


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel puts a penis in his mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter ended up being way too long, so I split it into two parts (which will now be known as chapter 7 and chapter 8) so the next part will be up a lot sooner than this update took. Sorry about that by the way. Life is kinda kicking my ass right now.
> 
> Follow me on Tumblr [LoverAwakened](http//www.lover-awakened.tumblr.com)

The first thing Castiel noticed was the smell. Leather. Stale whiskey. Sweat. _What the hell?_ Castiel’s eyes flew open. The events from the previous night flashed across his sleep-addled mind. Dean, naked and moaning. Running his hands over Dean’s body. Dean ejaculating. Attempting to ‘shut down’ his grace to try and sleep, Dean curled under his arm.

 

Dean sighed heavily, disrupting the angel’s thoughts. The hunter’s body was facing away from him, but the Winchester’s back was flush up against the angel’s chest and his ass snuggled against Castiel’s _very_ prominent erection. Before Castiel could extricate himself from the hunter’s body, Dean ground his ass against the angel’s erection, making Castiel moan and he bent his head down, burying his face in the back of Dean’s neck.

 

“Morning, Sunshine.”

 

“Mmhm.” Castiel buried his head further, inhaling Dean’s scent. It was intoxicating.

 

Dean carefully rolled his hips, causing Castiel’s breath to hitch. He was fully hard and if Dean kept this up, he was liable to ejaculate in his boxers.

 

“Damn, Cas, whatcha packin’ down there?”

 

Castiel bit his lip and groaned at another sensual roll of Dean’s hips. “Hmm?”

 

Dean turned around in the angel’s arms and rolled him onto his back in one fluid move, their erections pressing together, Dean just inches away from his lips.

 

“This okay?” Dean breathed.

 

“Yes.”

 

Permission given, Dean traced his tongue along the seam of Castiel’s lips. The angel gasped, sensations starting to overwhelm him between the roll of Dean’s hips and the hunter’s demanding mouth. Dean took advantage of Castiel’s parted lips, tongue delving into the warmth of the angel’s mouth, twisting around his tongue and exploring every part of the angel’s mouth.

 

“Oh, oh, Dean!”

 

The hunter kissed and licked a trail from the angel’s mouth, along his jaw, and started nipping at the tender flesh of Castiel’s neck.

 

“Dean,” Castiel moaned.

 

Dean’s hands gripped at Castiel’s hips, thumbs hooked into the waistband but otherwise keeping on top of the angel’s underwear while his tongue licked down Castiel’s neck and chest, teasing the angel’s nipples into tight little buds.

 

Castiel squirmed underneath the hunter, head tossing back and forth, hands roaming the expanse of the Winchester’s back. He rolled his hips up, trying to copy Dean’s movements. The air felt cool against the trail of saliva Dean left, flesh breaking out in goosebumps. Everything Dean did felt amazing, but Castiel wanted to taste the hunter’s flesh.

 

With a burst of angelic strength, Castiel flipped them so he was towering over Dean, pinning the hunter’s wrists against the bed on either side of the Winchester’s head and a thick, muscular thigh pressed between the hunter’s legs. Green eyes stared up at the angel, wide and lust blown.

 

“Whatcha doin’, Cas?”

 

“I need to taste you,” He growled.

 

Dean groaned sinfully, arching his back and slowly rolling his hips, seeking friction.

 

Castiel traced Dean’s lips with the tip of his tongue. He moved along Dean’s body, from those full, pink lips down to his navel, worshipping the hunter’s skin with his mouth and hands. Dean keened, making soft gasps and moans as Castiel treasured his body.

 

The angel hesitated when he reached Dean’s navel, raising his eyes in question to the hunter. Dean licked his lips, nodding his head and lifted his hips so Castiel could peel off his boxers. The waistband of the cotton underwear caught on the tip of Dean’s erection, bouncing the hardened length back against the hunter’s stomach with a _thwack_. Castiel groaned, sliding the fabric down the rest of the way and throwing them across the bedroom.

 

The angel sat back on his heels, keeping his own underwear on for the moment. Spreading Dean’s legs open so that he could fit between them, Castiel reverently ran his hands over the hunter’s muscular legs. “Oh, Dean. You are so beautiful.” Castiel whispered. Dean’s cheeks tinted pink, eyes glancing away from the angel.

 

“Guys aren’t beautiful, Cas.” Dean closed his legs slightly, arms crossing over his abdomen.

 

“No. Don’t hide from me.” Castiel chided, wrapping his fingers around Dean’s wrists and pulling Dean’s arms to the hunter’s sides, kneeing Dean’s legs apart again. “You _are_ beautiful, Dean. You are the most beautiful man I have ever laid eyes on. The only thing that can rival your exterior beauty is the brightness of your soul.”

 

Dean’s eyes fluttered closed, a soft whimper escaping the hunter’s throat. Castiel seized the opportunity, leaning down to lick at the head of Dean’s penis, effectively cutting off any ‘macho’ argument Dean was about to make. Green eyes shot open as Dean sucked in a harsh breath.

 

“Fuuuck! Cas!”

 

The angel kitten licked up and down Dean’s length, swirling his tongue around the dripping head. Dean wriggled on the bed, gasping and moaning. He buried his hands in Castiel’s hair, gripping tightly. Castiel wrapped his fingers around the hot, throbbing shaft, jerking Dean’s length while he moved his mouth further south, licking and sucking on the hunter’s scrotum. Dean jack-knifed off the bed, tugging hard at the angel’s hair. Castiel growled and hummed against the Winchester’s testicles, deciding he enjoyed the roughness, as did Castiel’s dick, which twitched in agreement.

 

“Shit, Cas. Fuck.” Dean laid back again, toes curling. “Please, Cas, please…I need…I need…”

 

“What do you need, Dean?” Castiel murmured. “Tell me.” Castiel was back to swirling his tongue teasingly along Dean’s length.

 

“I-I need you to suck me, Cas.” Dean pleaded. “Take me in your mouth. Please. I can’t take any more teasing. Take my cock in your hot, wet mouth, Castiel.”

 

The angel growled, parting his lips and sank down as far as he could comfortably go on Dean’s dick.

 

“YES! Fuck, yes, Angel!!”

 

Castiel felt the arousal stirring in his abdomen. Dean felt incredible in his mouth; the weight of him, the stretch of his lips around the hunter. Bobbing his head up and down, Castiel tried differing speeds and suction; sometimes hollowing his cheeks and sucking hard, sometimes simply letting his mouth loosely glide up and down Dean’s shaft. He dragged his tongue along the underside of Dean’s penis, mouth still around him, testing out techniques with his tongue; swirling it around the head before swallowing Dean back down, pushing the tip of his tongue against the slit, seeing what Dean liked-what noises he could pull from the hunter.

 

Castiel couldn’t believe how much he was enjoying pleasuring Dean orally, but the angel reveled in it. Castiel briefly wondered if it was just as pleasurable to be on the receiving end; judging from the Winchester’s breathlessness and high pitched whining noises, it seemed it was. Dean’s hands found their way back to the angel’s hair; whimpers, pleas, and praises falling from his lips. Obscene slurping noises filled the room, Castiel’s saliva running down Dean’s balls, his cock glistening.

 

“There’s no way you’ve never done this before.” Dean yanked Castiel’s head up, pulling him into a deep kiss. “Mmm, so fuckin’ good, Cas,” he mumbled against the angel’s lips, “So fucking good.”

 

“I promise you, Dean, I have never done this before. You are my first.”

 

Dean’s eyes darkened. They were hungry. Possessive.

 

“I’m your first?” Dean asked, voice low and rough.

 

“Yes, Dean.” Castiel shied away, drawing back, but still laying on top of the hunter. He swallowed thickly, trying to find the right words to express his feelings without scaring Dean off. Castiel knew how Dean could be when it came to emotions.

 

“I have kissed a few women. I have had sex with a woman once, which, unfortunately, ended with my torture and subsequent death the following morning,” Dean scowled, clearly still angry about the whole situation with April. Castiel shushed Dean, placing an index finger over the hunter’s mouth.

 

“However,” Castiel’s voice was sharp, giving Dean a look of annoyance at his continued grumbling, “; you are the first male I have kissed, the first male I have touched intimately,” Castiel traced patterns on Dean’s chest with his fingers, locking his gaze on him, “the first male I’ve pleasured orally,” Dean groaned, rolling his hips, “And, if you let me, the first male I’ll be having sex with.” Castiel’s voice softened.

 

The angel had wanted to say ‘make love with’, but he figured Dean Winchester would balk at the thought of doing anything involving love.

 

Dean’s eyes flared. Sitting up, he crashed his mouth against the angel’s in a bruising, claiming kiss that was all teeth and tongue, yanking Castiel’s boxers down to his knees. Castiel gasped as his erection was freed. Dean cupped the back of the angel’s head, wrapping his other arm around Castiel’s back, pulling him back down to the bed with the hunter. Dean continued the assault on Castiel’s mouth, bucking frantically underneath the angel, moans and needy whines being swallowed by the other’s mouth.

 

“Cas, move…move your hips.” Dean begged, frantic, grabbing the globes of the angel’s ass, guiding Castiel’s hips.

 

Castiel nuzzled Dean’s neck, obediently grinding his dick against Dean’s, body quivering, all the angel’s nerve endings sparking, raw and exposed. He panted against the other’s neck, chasing his release, coming apart at the seams as Dean whispered in his ear.

 

“Fuck, sweetheart, you’re so good. Want you so much. Need you,” Dean murmured, “Oh, fuck, Castiel, I need you!”

 

The angel’s body went rigid as his orgasm overtook him, spilling warmth between their bodies, Castiel letting out a guttural moan, snapping his hips harshly and riding out the rest of his orgasm.

 

Dean growled, biting down hard on the meat of Castiel’s shoulder, spilling his own release between them.

 

They laid in each other’s arms, panting, trying to catch their breath. Dean kissed Castiel’s temple, banding his arms around the angel.

 

“Hey, uh, Cas?”

 

“Hm?” Castiel laid his head on Dean’s shoulder, nosing his neck and inhaling deeply.

 

“Think you can, uh, clean us up?”

 

“Of course, Dean.” The angel flicked his wrist.

 

“Thanks, Angel.” Dean kissed his head, trailing kisses down his face.

 

Castiel felt a warm, fuzzy feeling in his chest. Being here, wrapped in Dean’s arms, it felt like home. “I’m glad you’re my first, Dean. You’re very special to me.” Castiel slurred against Dean’s neck, euphoric.

 

With a squeeze and another kiss dropped to the top of Castiel’s head, Dean slid out from underneath the angel, causing him to fall with a huff on his stomach.

 

Dean quickly pulled on boxers. Quickly throwing the dresser drawers open, Dean grabbed jeans and a dark green shirt. “Sam’s probably already in the kitchen for breakfast. I’ll see you down there, buddy.”

 

_Buddy?_

 

And with that, Dean Winchester was out of the door, leaving a very confused, very naked angel in his bed. _What just happened?_ All Castiel’s warm fuzzies shattered, the angel’s stomach dropping. He pulled the blanket over his lap to cover his nudity, suddenly ashamed, looking around Dean’s bedroom for his clothes.

 

Why hadn’t Dean waited for him to get dressed as well, so they could head down to breakfast together? Was Dean _that_ hungry that he needed to practically sprint out of the room? Had Castiel done something wrong?

 

Thoughts continued to swirl around the angel’s head, none of them were particularly pleasant, as he slowly got himself dressed. He eyed the trench coat, still laying on Dean’s floor in a rumpled heap from last night. He flung it over his arm and headed to the bunker’s kitchen for breakfast.

 

Dean sat at the table eating eggs, bacon, and toast. He didn’t see any more on the counter, the table, or in the pan. He tried not to feel disappointed.

 

Sam stood at the counter, putting sliced strawberries and bananas into a bowl of hot oatmeal. “Morning, Cas,” Sam greeted.

 

Castiel stared at Dean, who hadn’t looked up or acknowledged him at all since the angel walked in. It stung. Perhaps the angel was just being ridiculous. They had, after all, shared an intimate night and morning together. He’s sure everything is fine.

 

“Um, good morning, Sam.” He continued staring at Dean, who was shoveling eggs into his mouth, still not meeting the angel’s eyes. “Good morning, Dean.”

 

“Hey.” The hunter nodded in his direction, indifferent.

 

Sam, though, seemed to notice something was off, raising an eyebrow at his brother. “Uh, Dean?”

 

“Yeah, Sammy.” Dean soaked up the egg yolk with his toast, taking a huge bite.

 

“You didn’t make Cas anything to eat?”

 

“No.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“I’m not his mom. He’s older than dirt, Sam, dude can make his own breakfast.” Dean grumbled.

 

Castiel blanched at the hunter’s statement. Sam’s face fell as he looked between the angel and his brother, concern in his features.

 

“Well, yeah,” Sam agreed, “but I just thought— “

 

“Yeah, well, you thought wrong, Sam.” Dean answered, tone clipped as he continued to speak about Castiel as though the angel wasn’t directly in front of him. “I’m not his keeper.” Dean picked up his dishes, taking them over to the sink to wash them with the sponge wand filled with dish soap. He placed the coffee mug and plate in the drain-board to dry, walking around his brother, still not even glancing at Castiel.

 

“Gotta hit the head,” Dean mumbled, and headed out of the kitchen without another word.

 

Sam stood, mouth gaping, staring at the kitchen’s entrance. “Dude! Who pissed in his cornflakes?!” Sam blurted.

 

Castiel tilted his head in confusion. “Your brother had eggs, not cereal, Sam. And who would urinate in someone’s breakfast?”

 

Sam stared at him, brows furrowed. Suddenly, the younger Winchester broke out in a full body laugh, gripping his stomach. “No, man, I mean…” Sam continued laughing as he walked up to Castiel, taking the trench coat out of the angel’s arms and laid it on the back of one of the kitchen chairs. “Never mind,” Sam smiled, rubbing a hand in a quick circle on the angel’s back. “Sit down, Cas. I’ll make you some breakfast.”

 

“Thank you, Sam.” Castiel wasn’t sure why Dean’s mood had shifted so suddenly this morning, but he was grateful to have Sam with him right now so he wasn’t left alone with his thoughts.

 

“No problem, Cas.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is completely Castiel's POV and this is done on purpose. It makes it more difficult to write, not being able to include anyone's perspective that Castiel cannot immediately see (and even then, he can only guess at because he doesn't know what is going on in another character's head). If you are angry at Dean after reading this chapter, that means I'm doing my job. I love Dean to death and most fics are either Dean's POV or at least include Dean's POV so we get to see all that angsty feels and lovey-dovey feels and mild homophobia warring inside his head. We understand what he's going through because we can read what's happening to him and we sympathize with him, regardless of his ass-like behavior. And yes, the same thing is happening with Dean in this fic, the reader, however, is not privileged with this information. So, THIS Dean...this is what he would look like to an outsider (i.e. Castiel, Sam, etc) with Dean going through his emotional rollercoaster, trying to deal with feelings himself.
> 
> Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I should have the next chapter up relatively quickly. *hugs*


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel and Sam have a serious discussion about Dean. Dean lets Castiel know how he feels about others touching or flirting with the angel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***Warning: brief but detailed discussion about alcoholism***
> 
> Crowley's texts are in bold and Castiel's texts are in italics

The rest of the day was strange for Castiel. After eating breakfast with Sam, Dean popped back into the kitchen to inform them that he was going out and he’d be back later. When Sam questioned where ‘out’ was, Dean huffed, telling his little brother that he was a ‘grown-ass man’ and didn’t need permission or a chaperone to go out, glaring at Sam for the former and Castiel for the latter, although, the angel wasn’t sure why. When Dean stomped out of the kitchen for the second time that morning, Sam looked at Castiel with a sympathetic expression but kept silent. Castiel tried to figure out if he’d done something wrong, something to cause such a shift in Dean’s mood, but he could think of nothing.

 

The bunker door creaked open at nearly midnight. Sam had already retired to his room, but Castiel paced the bunker, finally lounging in the War Room, thoughts of Dean assaulting his brain. Castiel looked up as Dean came down the staircase. Stumbled down would be more accurate. He had a paper bag in his hand that Castiel assumed contained some kind of hard liquor. Dean looked absolutely disheveled, and not in a sexual way. His hair stuck out in all directions like he couldn’t stop pulling at it or running his hands through it, his clothing hung loose and crooked on his frame. Dean’s face was flushed a deep red and was covered in a thin sheen of sweat. He looked at Castiel with cloudy, unfocused green eyes, pupils expanded.

 

“S’up, Cas?” Dean slurred, swaying on his feet at the bottom of the stairs.

 

“Hello, Dean.” He reached out, gripping Dean’s left shoulder to steady the hunter.

 

“’ere’s Sammy?” Dean looked around the War Room trying to focus his drunken eyes by squinting.

 

“Your brother went to bed around 10:00 this evening.”

 

“Wut time s’it?”

 

“Nearly midnight.”

 

Dean let out a small chuckle. “F-fuck, I been gone a while, huh?” He looked amused. Castiel was not.

 

“Yes, Dean, you’ve been gone the whole day,” Castiel said, concerned. “Where have you been?”

 

Dean’s head snapped up at the question, yanking out of Castiel’s hold on his shoulder. “I was _out_. That okay with you, _Mom?!”_ Dean took a swig from the bottle in the paper bag, laughing darkly. “No. No, you’re not _my_ Mom, Cas. You sound too _concerned_ to be _my_ Mom,” he spat, “if you were my Mom you’d, I dunno, take off because you need space and be ignoring my phone calls and text messages.”

 

“Oh, Dean.” Cas frowned.

 

“I don’t want your pity, Cas.” Dean snapped.

 

The angel reached out cautiously for Dean’s hand as the hunter took another long pull of the liquor, feeling electricity shooting up his arm as their fingers touched. When Dean didn’t move, Castiel hesitantly intertwined their fingers, breathing a sigh of relief that Dean didn’t push him away.

 

Dean stared down at their linked hands, eyes slowly dragging up Castiel’s body. The angel was still wearing his trench coat, but during all the pacing in the bunker and sitting around the War Room waiting for Dean, he had loosened his tie and undone the first couple of buttons on his shirt. Dean’s liquor-glazed eyes roamed hungrily over Castiel, settling on the exposed column of the angel’s throat.

 

Dean walked him backward slowly until the backs of the angel’s thighs bumped into the table. Castiel’s breath hitched as Dean leaned in, but instead of closing the distance between them, the hunter reached around Castiel and set down the liquor. Dean pulled back to stare into the angel’s eyes, searching them. Castiel wanted to push the hunter away, he really did, but then Dean snaked his left hand into Castiel’s coat and slid it around to the small of his back while the other hand cupped the angel’s jaw.

 

“Dean—“

 

The hunter cut him off, lips crashing hard against the angel’s. The kiss was sloppy and uncoordinated, all teeth clacking and tongue plunging deep into Castiel’s mouth like he was trying to reach his tonsils and there was, maybe, a little bit of slobber. Dean tasted like cheap whiskey and he moaned into the angel’s mouth, hands feeling all over the angel’s body frantically. Castiel felt himself begin to harden, but he needed to put a stop to this, now. He would not take advantage of his best friend. Boyfriend. Whatever. He really needed to have that conversation with Dean about what they are to each other now.

 

“Dean, wait.” Castiel panted, pulling back from the onslaught of the hunter’s kisses. “Dean!” He said, forcefully.

 

“Huh?”

 

“Bedroom, Dean. We should get you to your bedroom.”

 

Dean grinned, sliding his palm down the angel’s chest, settling over Castiel’s hardened length and gripping it, biting his lip when Castiel groaned. “Mmm, yeah, Cas,” Dean licked a stripe up the side of Castiel’s neck. The angel moaned, hips rolling involuntarily against Dean’s, both men moaning at the feel of their clothed cocks rubbing together. “Sounds good, Angel. Let’s take this party to my bedroom.” The hunter glanced nervously around the War Room, “Don’t want Sammy catching us. C’mon, Cas. Let’s go.” Dean dropped a chaste kiss to his lips, taking Castiel’s hand as he grabbed the whiskey off the table and tried to lead him to the bedroom.

 

“No, Dean. I didn’t mean like that,” Castiel smirked. “You’re drunk. You need to, how do you humans phrase it, 'sleep it off'.” The angel said, as his brain finally caught up with the implications of what just came out of Dean’s mouth. “Wait,” Castiel frowned, stopping so abruptly Dean nearly spilled the remains of the bottle of whiskey. “Why do you care if Sam were to walk in on us?”

 

Dean deflected his question, trying once again to drag Castiel to his bedroom. “What? You got a voyeurism kink, Cas?” Dean wiggled his brows.

 

Castiel wasn’t deterred, however, his expression turning cold. “Dean, you’ve shared explicit details of some of your sexual conquests from your random bar hookups just to watch your brother cringe and I know for a fact that Sam has walked in on you having intercourse with two women at the same time and you didn’t care then.” Castiel yanked his hand from Dean’s, words laced with venom. “So, tell me, Dean. Why are you nervous about Sam finding out about us?”

 

“It’s different, Cas! I’m not…you’re a…” Dean trailed off, eyes pleading with the angel to let this go, but Castiel was furious.

 

“Why?! Why is it different? Because this body is male?!”

 

Dean balked at the accusation. “What? No!” Dean blurted. “This…this is private, Cas. Between us.”

 

All the muscles of Castiel’s body tensed, his eyes bore into Dean’s, stare intense as if he were trying to set the man’s soul on fire. “You either want me or you don’t. I am not going to be your dirty little secret, Dean Winchester.” Castiel said jaw clenched.

 

“Cas,” Dean whined, “that’s not what I meant.”

 

He stumbled forward, Castiel catching him by the forearms. The hunter was quite inebriated. Castiel felt some of the tension ease from his body. Maybe Castiel was being too harsh on his friend and this was just drunken ramblings and Dean didn’t mean what he said how the angel took it. Castiel’s expression softened and he brushed a kiss on Dean’s cheek, the sweat dampening his lips.

 

“Ok, Dean. I believe you,” he murmured. “Come on.”

 

Castiel wrapped Dean’s arm over his shoulder, putting his own arm around the hunter’s lower back so he could keep the drunk man upright and guide him to the bedroom. With all of Dean’s stumbling and stops to mutter drunken dirty things to the angel, what should have been a two-minute trip took fifteen instead. Dean’s eyelids were heavy and he put a majority of his weight on Castiel as the angel walk-dragged the drunken Dean to his bed, where he gently removed the hunter’s boots and clothing, leaving Dean in only his boxer-briefs. The hunter tried to take another swig of the cheap whiskey, but Castiel swiped it from his hand. Dean grumbled.

 

“Lay down, Beloved.” Castiel soothed, helping the hunter to get underneath his blanket and tucked him in. Dean could barely keep his eyes open, muttering about how good he was going to make it for the angel. “Sleep well, Dean,” Castiel whispered.

 

He took the whiskey with him to the bunker’s kitchen, dumping the remaining contents into the sink and tossing the bottle into the recycling bin. Castiel filled a tall glass with some water and grabbed the Tylenol from the cabinet next to the sink and shook out a couple pills. He made his way back to Dean’s room, taking care to be as quiet as possible so he didn’t disturb the hunter and set the water and the Tylenol on the nightstand for Dean to have in the morning when he awoke. Castiel leaned over Dean, placing a tender kiss to the hunter’s forehead before crossing the hallway to his own bedroom.

 

Castiel shrugged out of his coats and toed off his shoes. He lifted the tie from around his neck, not wanting to untie it because honestly, retying the thing frustrated him, and placed it down on the small desk in his room, grabbing the novel he left there earlier in the day.  Curling up in bed, Castiel opened the paperback to the bookmarked page and read until the brothers got up for the morning.

 

Castiel ate breakfast with Sam, making small talk as they waited for Dean to wake up.

 

“So did he come home last night?” Sam inquired.

 

“Yes. Around midnight.”

 

“Did he say where he was?”

 

Castiel shook his head, pushing scrambled eggs around his plate with a fork.

 

“How was he? I mean,” Sam hesitated, “was he, uh, sober?”

 

Sadness washed over the angel as he looked into the younger Winchester’s hazel eyes. “No.”

 

Sam hung his head and took a deep breath. Castiel could hear the worry in the hunter’s voice. It mirrored his own.

 

“Cas…we need to talk to him about this. It’s-it’s not healthy. He’s gonna drink himself into an early grave.”

 

Castiel winced at the phrase, glancing around the kitchen nervously. “I, um, I heal him,” he said, looking away.

 

Sam’s brows furrowed, “Yeah, dude, you, uh, you heal us all the time.” He looked at the angel, confused.

 

Castiel rubbed his hands over his face and back through his perpetually messy hair. “Sam,” he began, “your brother has been doing irreparable damage to his liver.” Sam’s eyes widened, jaw dropping in shock. “For some time now, years actually, whenever I’ve healed Dean from a hunt, I’ve made sure to completely heal his liver as well.”

 

Sam remained silent, staring down at the kitchen table, face expressionless. Castiel’s heart ached. They both knew Dean, like the boys' father, had a problem, though, neither one of them had spoken about their concerns out loud. The tension in the air was beginning to make Castiel uncomfortable. He began fidgeting in his seat, actions feeling large in comparison to the statuesque stillness of the younger Winchester. Finally, Sam broke the silence.

 

“You’re enabling him,” Sam said, calmly.

 

“Excuse me?!” Castiel cried, incredulous.

 

“You’ve been healing his liver for years. You’ve allowed him to continue drinking himself stupid without any consequences,” Sam said, irritably.

 

“I’ve _allowed_ him?! I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Sam, but I do not _own_ your brother. I do not _allow_ him to do anything. Dean makes his own choices!” Castiel exploded, feeling the anger rising and the heat in his cheeks. How dare Sam insinuate that Castiel is the reason for Dean’s excessive drinking. Castiel cares about Dean! He _loves_ him!

 

“But, Cas—“

 

“No,” the angel interrupted, “Would you rather I let Dean drink himself to cirrhosis,” he glared at Sam, jumping from his seat to tower over the younger Winchester. “Is that what you want? Would you like Dean’s liver to become so scarred from all the alcohol abuse that the effects would be irreversible?”

 

Sam grimaced, “No, I just—“

 

“Perhaps you’d like to see his skin yellow, watch him as he gradually gets more and more fatigued, loses weight, eventually vomiting blood. All so, what, he can ‘learn his lesson’? Of course, by then cirrhosis will have set in and there will be nothing any Hepatologist or Gastroenterologist will be able to do to treat your brother, other than a liver transplant. And no doctor is going to allow a donated liver to go to an alcoholic.”

 

“No, fuck, Cas, of course that’s not what I want!” Sam protested. “I’m just worried about him! He’s my brother, Cas. What happens if you’re suddenly not around to heal him anymore?” The angel scoffed. “I’m serious, Cas! What if you die? What if something happens to your grace and you become human again? You wouldn’t be able to heal Dean, and he’d just keep drinking himself into a stupor because he’s always been fine before.”

 

Castiel flinched. He hadn’t thought about that. He’d just wanted to keep Dean alive and healthy. Well, as healthy as he could be anyway.

 

“Look, man,” Sam cleared his throat, the hunter’s expression worried, “I'm sorry. I didn’t mean that Dean’s drinking is your fault.” Sam stood, enveloping the angel in a hug. “I’m so sorry, Cas.”

 

Castiel froze momentarily before returning his friends hug. A throat cleared in the doorway and had them jumping apart. Dean stood in the kitchen, the empty glass of water from the previous evening in his hand. His hair was still a mess, but he was in a fresh set of clothes; an old Led Zeppelin tee and a pair of light gray, baggy sweatpants that hung low on the hunter’s hips. Castiel did his best to keep his eyes above Dean’s waist. Dean arched an eyebrow, looking back and forth between the two men.

 

“Am I interrupting something?”

 

Castiel couldn’t find any words, wondering just how long Dean was standing there and how much of their conversation he had overheard. Sam gave Castiel’s shoulder a quick squeeze before sitting back down in his chair.

 

“Nope. Not a thing.” Sam wrapped a large hand around his coffee mug, gesturing to Castiel with his eyes to have a seat.

 

“Uh-huh.” Dean walked to the sink washing the glass and grabbing a mug from the cabinet. He rubbed a hand over his face and poured himself some coffee, joining Sam and Castiel at the breakfast table. “Thanks for the water and Tylenol last night, Sam.”

 

The younger Winchester quirked his head sideways. “What?”

 

“That was me, Dean,” Castiel interjected.

 

“Oh, sorry. Thanks, man.” Dean playfully slapped the angel’s back. Castiel’s face fell.

 

“Do you not remember seeing me last night when you got home?”

 

“Nah.”

 

The angel did his best not to look as hurt as he felt. “You don’t remember talking with me or…” his eyes flicked to Sam and then quickly back to Dean, “…or, um, anything?”

 

“Nope.” Dean grabbed the newspaper from Sam, eyes scanning it, oblivious to the glances exchanged between his brother and the angel.

 

“Oh, okay,” Castiel whispered, eyes downcast.

 

Sam chose that moment to loudly clear his throat. “So, get this.”

 

“Oh, fuck my life.” Dean groaned, banging his head down on the table.

 

Sam raised an eyebrow in question but continued. “Child Protection Services officer Olivia Sanchez walked into her church in Iowa. She was bleeding from her head, with holes in her hands and feet.” Sam glanced at Castiel before continuing, “She was then killed by some ‘unseen force’ in front of the priest and the whole congregation.”

 

Dean lifted his head and grumbled, “Ok, well, _that’s_ new.”

 

Castiel’s phone buzzed. Pulling it out of his jacket, he scanned the text messages while the brothers were discussing their newest possible case. His phone buzzed several times in a row, earning a curious glance from the elder Winchester.

 

“Girlfriend?”

 

Castiel scowled at Dean.

 

From 666:  
**Hello, darling.**

 

From 666:  
**How’s my favorite angel today?**

 

From 666:  
**Do you miss me, love?**

 

Castiel rolled his eyes, thumbs sliding over the keypad on his cell.

 

To 666:  
_What do you want, Crowley?_

 

From 666:  
**Can’t I just text to chat?!**

 

To 666:  
_No. [frowny face emoji]_

 

To 666:  
_What do you want? Tell me._

 

From 666:  
**Wow. Like to bend them right over, do you? It makes me tingle when you get all dominant on me, Castiel.**

 

To 666:  
_Goodbye, Crowley [angry face emoji]_

 

From 666:  
**Fine. You’re no fun. I have a lead on Lucifer.**

 

To 666: _  
Call you in 10 _

 

From 666:  
**Can’t wait [winky face emoji]**

 

To 666:  
_Shut up, Crowley_

 

From 666:  
**Tease [devil emoji]**

 

Sam and Dean cleaned up breakfast and started packing for their trip to Iowa. The elder Winchester caught up with Castiel in the hallway on the way to the garage.

 

“So, Cas. About last night. I’m really sorry.” A pink tint colored Dean’s cheeks making those adorable freckles stand out even more. Dean ran his hand over the back of his head, staring at the floor. “I, uh, don’t remember anything from last night, but I’m assuming if you were the one that put the water and Tylenol on my nightstand then you were also the one who got me to my room and in my bed. So, uh, ya know, thanks for taking care of me, I guess.”

 

Castiel smiled, “I will always take care of you, Dean.”

 

The hunter smiled brightly, eyes sober and clear, gold flecked through the moss green irises. They turned the corner and Dean shoved Castiel into one of the storage rooms, the angel giving a surprised _hmmph._ Shutting the door, Dean pressed the angel against one of the shelves containing boxes of antiques long forgotten by the Men of Letters.

 

“So, what was going on in the kitchen this morning?”

 

“What,” Castiel squinted, “when?”

 

Dean rolled his eyes, bracketing the angel with his arms so he had nowhere to move. “When my moose of a brother had his hooves all over you.”

 

Castiel smirked at the nickname for the younger Winchester. “Nothing, Dean. He just said something and I was angry and offended so he apologized and we ‘hugged it out’.”

 

Dean laughed at the angel’s pop culture reference, but his face suddenly turned serious. “He offended you? What did he say? Cuz he’s my brother and I love him and all, but I’ll totally kick his ass if he upset you.”

 

Castiel was taken aback by Dean’s confession. It was the first time the angel had ever heard the man say out loud that he loved someone. Even though it was fairly obvious to everyone how deeply Dean cared for his friends and family. Not only that, but Castiel was oddly touched that Dean offered to _deal_ with Sam for offending him.

 

“It’s fine, Dean. Thank you. I appreciate the gesture.” He wrapped his arms loosely around Dean’s shoulders, the hunter’s hands settling on Castiel’s hips. The angel was getting lost in those gorgeous green eyes when Dean spoke again.

 

“Who was on the phone?”

 

He shook his head dismissively, “Just Crowley.”

 

“The fuck did that asshat want?” Dean snarled.

 

“He has a lead on Lucifer. I’m going to call him in a few minutes to get the details.” Castiel reached into his pocket to grab his phone, pulling up the message. “See. No secret girlfriend.” He joked.

 

Dean took the phone, scrolling through the messages between Crowley and the angel. “Does he always talk to you like this?!” Dean squawked.

 

“Like what?” Castiel asked, confused.

 

“Like he’s trying to get in your pants, that’s what!” Dean bellowed.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“He’s flirting with you, Cas! And being all raunchy about it!”

 

“No, he’s not. He’s just being Crowley. You know…an idiot. He doesn’t mean anything by it.”

 

Anger flashed across the older Winchester’s face and he let out an animalistic growl. The shelves rattled as Dean gripped tightly to the angel’s hips, slamming him up against it. Castiel felt heat curl low in his gut at Dean’s possessive display. The hunter pressed his face into Castiel’s neck, nipping harshly at the skin there. Castiel moaned.

 

“You’re mine,” Dean snarled, “only mine!” The angel keened as Dean bit and licked and sucked his way around Castiel’s neck and jaw. “So, I take it you’ll be pal-ing around with Crowley while Sam and I go to Iowa, huh?”

 

“Mhm,” Castiel mumbled.

 

Dean continued to mouth at the angel’s neck, Castiel’s head falling back against the shelf as Dean’s hands roamed over his body. The angel was thick and hard, his erection aching to be touched.

 

As if the hunter could read his mind, Dean gripped his clothed cock, stroking it slowly. Fire burned inside Castiel and he needed to get his hands on Dean’s skin, now! He skirted slender fingers beneath the hem of Dean’s Zeppelin shirt, feeling the hot expanse of skin as he carefully pulled the shirt up and over Dean’s head. He quickly attacked Dean’s flesh with his mouth, the angel giving a satisfied hum as Dean moaned and whined while Castiel dragged his tongue around a nipple, giving it a quick bite.

 

“Fuck, Cas!” Dean gasped. “So, you’re gonna be outta town with Crowley for a few days. Guess I’ll have to remind you who it is you belong to.”

 

The angel whimpered as the hunter grabbed Castiel’s shoulders, forcefully pushing the angel to his knees. Dean hooked his thumbs in the waistband of the sweatpants, pulling them along with his boxers down to his ankles.

 

“God, Cas. Need you so much, baby.”

 

Castiel stared at Dean’s dripping cock with wide, hungry eyes and licked his lips.

 

“Wish you were coming with us to Iowa, babe. Gonna miss you so much.”

 

Placing his hand on Castiel’s jaw, Dean gently stroked the angel’s bottom lip with his thumb.

 

“Open up for me, Cas,” Dean commanded, and Castiel groaned, opening his mouth wide, his lips stretching as Dean pushed his swollen cock into the angel’s waiting mouth.

 

Slowly, Dean rocked his hips and Castiel let his jaw go slack. The storage room filled with the sounds of their grunts and moans and Castiel's slick slurping noises. Saliva ran down Castiel’s chin and neck as Dean thrust deeper into the angel’s mouth.

 

“Ahh, Cas! Mouth is so hot and wet, fuck! You’re mine. You hear me? Mine. No one else can have you like this. No one but me.”

 

The hunter began rocking his hips faster and Castiel could feel Dean’s cock throbbing in his mouth, feel his balls bouncing off of the angel’s chin and quickly getting coated in his saliva.

 

“That’s it, baby, take all of me. Yes!” Dean breathed.

 

Castiel’s own cock was hurting and he undid his slacks, pulling himself out and stroking himself in time with Dean’s thrusts.

 

“Yeah, Angel, fuck, touch yourself. Wanna see you come when I shoot my load down your throat. Fuuuuck. Yes! So good, baby. Feel so good.” Dean babbled.

 

Castiel was close. He knew he was going to come any second now. Locking eyes with Dean, Castiel gently scraped his bottom teeth along the thick vein on the underside of the hunter’s shaft.

 

“Fuuuuuuuuuuck! YES!” Dean screamed, burying himself deep, come pulsing down the angel’s throat.

 

Castiel swallowed down everything Dean gave him, stroking himself through his own orgasm and trying valiantly to keep his eyes open to watch Dean come undone above him. 

 

Castiel sat back on his heels, panting. Looking up at Dean's lustful gaze, the angel wondered if Dean loved him as much as he loved Dean. He would do anything for Dean, he was and always has been completely gone on the man. Damn it. Castiel was so screwed.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on Tumblr [LoverAwakened](http://www.lover-awakened.tumblr.com)


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel and Crowley are headed back from another road trip. Dean and Castiel keep in touch via text message and Castiel eavesdrops on the Winchester brothers in the bunker and thinks about who he is and where he fits in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dean's texts are in BOLD and Castiel's texts are in ITALICS

The past couple of weeks had left Castiel feeling giddy. He wasn’t exactly certain what to call whatever was going on between he and the hunter, but he was immensely happy that he was not, in fact, another in the long line of Dean’s one-night stands.

 

“Does this blasted rust bucket go any faster?” Crowley grumbled, leaning on his elbow against the passenger window. “Not that I don’t enjoy your company, love.” He snickered, sending a salacious wink the angel’s way.

 

Castiel’s grip tightened on the steering wheel. Mentally, he counted to ten, taking slow, deep breaths. “It’s not a ‘rust bucket’, it’s my truck.”

 

“Well, it’s not really _your_ truck—“

 

“It’s mine now!” Castiel snapped. He did another ten count, flexing his fingers around the brown leather of the steering wheel. The lead on Lucifer was a bust, not finding out any information regarding his whereabouts they didn’t already know. Right now, they were headed back toward the bunker, stopping by another one of Crowley’s informants on the way back. “And it goes faster, however, I am maintaining the speed limit so that we do not draw the attention of the local law enforcement.” Forcing a smile, he turned to stare at the demon next to him. “Besides, Crowley, I thought you were excited about our, what do you call them? Oh, right, our ‘road trips’.” Castiel made an exaggerated sniffing motion, scenting the air near Crowley. “Oh, and could you roll down your window? It smells like sulfur in here.” He scrunched up his nose in faux disgust, trying to hide his smirk.

 

Crowley grumbled, but eased his window down none-the-less, “At least I don’t smell like ozone or the stifling air after a thunderstorm,” the demon retorted.

 

“So you’d rather smell like rotten eggs than fresh rain?” Castiel asked, raising an eyebrow.

 

“That hurts, darling. That really hurts.” Crowley mocked, clutching his chest, and Castiel couldn’t help the small laugh that bubbled to the surface.

 

The angel’s phone chirped and he fished it out of his coat pocket, keeping one hand on the wheel and an eye on the road as he pulled up the notifications. Noticing the text message was from Dean he grinned.

 

“Boyfriend calling?” The angel’s expression instantly went blank. “And how do you know that it’s even Dean?” Castiel scoffed, then quickly added, “not that Dean and I are ‘together’ or ‘boyfriends’ or anything.” He could feel the heat spread across his cheeks and he cleared his throat, opening the hunter’s message. Even though he hadn’t seen Dean since performing fellatio on him two weeks ago, they had kept in contact, either via call or text, every day.

 

 

 From Dean:   
**heya Cas. How goes things with the Douchenozzle of Hell?**

 

 

 Castiel snorted, tapping the keypad with his thumb.

 

“Do tell Squirrel I said hello.”

 

Castiel sighed and rolled his eyes. “Who says it’s even Dean I’m texting, huh? Dean Winchester is not the only person I communicate with, you know.”

 

Crowley chuckled darkly, “Sure. Of course. Except the massive heart eyes you’re currently giving your phone is a dead giveaway.”

 

 

 To Dean:   
_miserable. nothing on lucifer. and crowley said i smell like a thunderstorm._

 

From Dean:   
**WTF is he doing smelling you Cas?!!!**

 

To Dean:   
_calm down dean hes not smelling me hes just pouting. i told him to roll down the window because he smells like sulfur (laughy face)_

 

 

 “You do know it’s illegal to text and drive, correct? I could really do without you sending me through the windshield.”

 

“Crowley, I am an angel, I can multitask. You will be fine,” He snarked, “Besides, that is what seatbelts are for.”

 

 

 From Dean:   
**We’re back from Jody’s. You gonna be home any time soon?**

 

 

 He felt a warmth spread through him at Dean referring to the bunker as Castiel’s home. The angel still wasn’t sure if he belonged there, but then again, he didn’t feel like he really _belonged_ anywhere.

 

 

 To Dean:   
_on way back to bunker. crowley and i stopping at one more informant on way home. probably wont be back til middle of the night. dont wait up. ps crowley says hello_

 

 

 Just then a picture message popped up on Castiel’s phone of a large, very _erect_ penis. A clear bead of precum was pearled at the flushed tip with a caption that read _‘Miss you, Angel’_.

 

Castiel’s mouth was gaping like a fish as he stared at the photo. What was Dean sending him inappropriate pictures for?! Did he expect Castiel to send one in return?

 

Crowley seemed to take an interest, then, leaning across the bench seat of the truck. The demon reached for Castiel’s cell phone, tisking.

 

“My, my. What has gotten our little angel so flustered?”

 

As Crowley reached a hand out to grab the phone, Castiel panicked and snatched his hand away abruptly, unfortunately causing the angel to swerve the truck into oncoming traffic. Horns blared and he dropped the phone in his lap, returning both hands to the wheel and drifting back into his lane, but not before the adrenaline coursed through his veins making the angel’s body tremble.

 

“What the bloody hell was that?!” Crowley shrieked. “What happened to ‘I’m an angel, I can multitask’?”

 

Signaling his blinker, Castiel pulled off to the side of the road and turned on the hazard lights. His breathing was shallow and erratic and he could still feel the effects of the adrenaline triggering his ‘fight or flight’ response. The more Castiel experimented with the suppression of his angelic grace, the more he realized he could all but turn it off when it came to his body. Sure, it was still there, thrumming in the background, but more or less he found that he could push it aside and let his vessel…his human body… do what it was meant to do. And while it had perks like being able to sleep beside Dean and being able to taste and enjoy food and feel temperature, suppressing his grace also had a downside; panic attacks, aches and pains, other physical discomforts.

 

He scrubbed his hands down his face. “I apologize, Crowley. I don’t know what came over me.”

 

He slipped his phone back into his coat pocket and stared down at his lap. The demon arched his brow, face stern, like he knew Castiel wasn’t being completely truthful, but luckily, he let it go for now. After a few moments of tense silence, Crowley spoke.

 

“Is everything alright at the bunker with the boys?”

 

Castiel glanced at the clock on the truck’s dash. It was a few hours to the bunker still. If he sent Crowley to talk to the informant alone the angel could make it by sundown and be with Dean.

 

“Everything’s fine, I just need to get back.”

 

Crowley nodded in understanding and teleported off to see the informant by himself, promising to call Castiel if there was anything of importance to share. Castiel raced back to Lebanon, no longer concerned with speed limits and law enforcement. If the angel did manage to get pulled over, he supposed he could always use what the Winchesters dubbed his ‘Jedi mind trick’.

 

The sun had dipped below the horizon by the time he pulled into the bunker’s garage, pink and orange dancing against the remaining blue in the sky. Butterflies flew rampant in the angel’s stomach and he couldn’t contain the expression of sheer joy on his face. He had missed Dean so much, the last couple of weeks spent remembering the sensation of the hunter’s hands on his body; gripping his muscles tightly, stroking his hair, tongue teasing his nipples. Castiel couldn’t wait to run his fingers through Dean’s hair, to claim the other’s mouth with his own. Briefly Castiel thought about texting Dean to let him know he had arrived back at the bunker but decided against it. No, he wanted to see the look of surprise on the elder Winchester’s face when Dean saw that the angel was back from his trip.

 

He took the stairs two at a time, being extra careful not to make too much noise. Coming up on the library, Castiel smoothed down his wild hair and straightened and tightened his tie, checking to make sure he looked presentable. His footsteps slowed as he heard the voices of the Winchesters drifting from the War Room. It sounded like they were arguing. The angel figured he should alert the brothers to his presence. At least, that _was_ Castiel’s intention until he heard his name in the conversation.

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, man.”

 

“Don’t give me that bullshit, Dean, you know _exactly_ what I’m talking about.”

 

Were they fighting about him? Castiel quieted his breathing and tiptoed around the bookcase nearest the entryway between the War Room and the library and crouched down out of sight. He knew he shouldn’t be listening to their private conversation, but since it was about him, the angel figured he had a right to know. Right? He bit down on his lower lip, waiting for the brothers to continue speaking. It was silent, save for the sound of the angel breathing. For a moment, Castiel thought perhaps they had left to some other part of the bunker, but then he heard Sam speak again.

 

“Look, I know you’re emotionally constipated, Dean, but what the hell is up with these fucking bipolar mood swings?”

 

“Bipolar mood swings.” Dean deadpanned. “I don’t…I don’t even know what that means.”

 

“Really? You haven’t noticed how oddly you’ve been behaving around Cas lately?” There was a stretched silence before Sam continued. “Seriously. The closeness, the inside jokes. Cooking meals for him.”

 

“How are these bad things, Sammy?”

 

“Then you’re suddenly ignoring him, giving him the cold shoulder.” Sam carried on, not answering Dean’s question. “Then we leave for a couple weeks, and your all smiles and laughs anytime you get a text from your angel.”

 

“First off, Samantha, he’s not _my_ angel, okay. We are just friends. There is nothing, I repeat, _nothing_ going on between me and Cas. In fact, there’s not even a _me and Cas_!” Dean spat.

 

Castiel felt a stone drop in his gut and he squeezed his eyes shut. He really shouldn’t have eavesdropped, but it’s not like he could waltz in the room now. He should leave before the brothers carried this argument into the library and spotted him. Castiel’s eyes stung, his breath catching in his throat and he felt tears streaming down hot cheeks. His lip was quivering and his body trembled but he couldn’t seem to control it. The walls threatened to close in on him and his heart thundered in his chest. He felt as though he was going to vomit, even though his stomach was empty.

 

Dean didn’t care about him. Of course he didn’t. How could Castiel be so stupid? Dean was never going to tell anyone about them because Castiel meant nothing. He was a ‘booty call’. A sure thing when Dean needed release. Needed a cockslut. Was that all he was now? Castiel felt nauseous. He needed to leave.

 

Standing slowly, as not to get dizzy, Castiel crept away from the War Room, the voices of the brothers getting fainter.

 

“You’re my brother and I love you, Dean, no matter what. But Cas is my best friend. Cas deserves better than whatever emotional rollercoaster you have him on. You two—“

 

“Us two?” Dean asked, incredulous. Castiel stopped in his tracks.

 

 “There is no ‘us two’. There’s no _us_!” Dean bellowed.

 

This was just too much. Castiel couldn’t stand to hear another word. Choking on tears, the angel turned and ran. He ran out of the library. Ran past the bedrooms and the storage rooms. Ran all the way back to the garage, not caring if his heavy footfalls were heard by the Winchesters. Hopping in his truck, Castiel threw it into gear and peeled out, smoke from the old tires trailing in a cloud behind him.

 

His phone rang endlessly. Wiping the mucous from his nose on the sleeve of his trench coat, the angel pulled the ringing wretched device from his pocket, turned it off and threw it across the truck, not caring if the damn thing shattered.

 

The pain in his chest was excruciating. Castiel didn’t think angels were capable of such intense sadness that would cause them to cry, let alone the ‘ugly crying’ Castiel couldn’t seem to stop doing. So much snot. So many salty tears. His chest continued to ache uncontrollably as if Dean ripped it out with his bare hands and threw it in a blender.

 

The sun was long gone, darkness spreading through the sky, just as it was slowly spreading throughout his body. He wished with everything he had that there was someone he could talk to. Other than the Winchesters, Castiel didn’t have any friends. Claire didn’t hate him anymore, but this wasn’t something he could discuss with her. She barely tolerated him. And while he wasn’t technically her father, Castiel doubted it would be appropriate to discuss his sex life with her and he didn’t know what Claire would even think if he mentioned the things he and Dean had been doing. His brothers and sisters in Heaven couldn’t stand him and most of them were openly hostile about it. And even if any of them would lend an ear to Castiel, none of them would have the slightest idea what he was talking about. Angels weren’t made to feel. They weren’t made to love romantically, especially with a human.

 

The only brothers Castiel had that might be able to understand or at least be sympathetic were Gabriel and Balthazar and both of them were dead. He felt the horrible pang of guilt that always happened when he thought of Balthazar. He regretted his death deeply. And Gabriel, Castiel didn’t even understand why he missed the archangel so much, but he would give almost anything to have him back. Out of all the angels, Gabriel was the only one that felt most like a _real_ brother. At least, the notion of ‘brother’ Castiel had from watching the Winchester brothers over the years.

 

And just like that, Castiel was thinking about Dean again. He slammed his fist against the steering wheel. Why was he letting the hunter make him so miserable? Castiel was a warrior of Heaven, a soldier. Sometimes he wondered if he’d have been better off if someone else had pulled Dean from the Pit all those years ago.

 

He’d been driving around aimlessly for a little over an hour. When he took a second to focus and take in his surroundings the angel let out a hysterical laugh, shaking his head. Castiel couldn’t believe where he drove himself.

 

Pulling into the circular entrance, he stopped the truck in front of several gentlemen wearing white collared shirts and red vests. Leaving the engine running, Castiel stepped out of the vehicle. A handsome young man with dark hair and dark eyes casually strolled up to the angel, giving him a friendly smile and handed him a valet tag for the truck. If the gentleman noticed Castiel’s disheveled appearance or horrid emotional state, the valet gave no indication. “Here you go, sir.” Castiel nodded, taking the tag and pushed through the revolving door into the lobby of a very grand hotel.

 

Definitely no hunters staying here. Ever. He doubted any hunter would look for him here either. The angel’s feet carried him to the elevator and he went up to the top floor. Once he found the door he was looking for, Castiel knocked loudly and waited. He probably shouldn’t be doing this, but he was desperate. He pulled at a loose thread in his coat. When the door opened, he took a deep breath. _You can do this._

 

“Hello, Rowena.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel and Rowena have a chat. Crowley gets a lead on Lucifer. And Castiel goes back to the bunker to face Dean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to be clear, this fic is canon divergent from 12x03. While there may be similar happenings on (like searching for Lucifer) nothing is going to be quite the same, including when they finally catch up to Lucifer in LA.

“Hello, Rowena.”

 

The witch eyed him up and down. She had only opened the door partially but Castiel could see she was ready for bed. Red curls were pinned loosely to the top of her head. She wore no makeup and a royal blue satin nightgown hung on her slender frame. Castiel stood motionless and awkward in the hotel hallway as the silence stretched between them. Finally, the witch spoke.

 

“I just got off the phone with Fergus and he assured me that you two didn’t have any updates on Lucifer,” Rowena let out an annoyed huff, “I am over three hundred years old and I don’t know about you, Angel, but I require massive amounts of beauty sleep to keep looking this fabulous.”

 

Castiel tilted his head, eyes squinting at the witch, trying to decipher if she was making a joke or not. “Um, no. That’s not…that’s not why I’m here.”

 

Her eyebrow perked up in interest and she scanned Castiel from head to toe one more time. “Well, if you aren’t here about Lucifer, what can I do for you, Angel?”

 

“I…I didn’t know where else to go. May I come in?” Castiel pleaded.

 

Rowena debated silently for a moment before stepping back to let the angel inside the room. Castiel walked in taking in the space. There was a queen size bed in the center of the wall to his right made up with fine linens. Next to the bed a mahogany nightstand with a gold lamp and a telephone. Castiel didn’t look, but he was certain that the single drawer in the nightstand held only one item; the Holy Bible. To Castiel’s left was a matching mahogany dresser with a large expensive-looking TV on top. Next to the television sat a list of all the channels offered by the hotel in a protective plastic holder. A small rectangular table to the side of the dresser held a half empty bottle of champagne on ice, a platter of crackers and cheeses and a small round silver platter of chocolate covered strawberries. Unshed tears stung behind Castiel’s eyes and a lump formed in his throat. Rowena was suddenly in his field of vision again wearing a robe over her nightgown.

 

“Would you like to try one?” She asked, plucking a strawberry from the silver plate and holding it up to the angel’s face, misinterpreting Castiel’s intent stare of the little red fruit. “I’m not sure if angels eat or not, but if you do, you should try this, it’s absolutely magnificent.”

 

Castiel choked back a sob, spinning quickly away from the witch. He didn’t want her to see him so vulnerable. _Then why are you here?_ A traitorous voice whispered in his mind.

 

“Dear? Are you alright?” Rowena’s voice was cautious and uncertain. “Was it something I said?”

 

He squeezed his eyes tight, big fat tears escaping and running down his face. He couldn’t breathe. Every time Castiel attempted to draw a breath, his lungs mocked him. Not even his grace could help him; his brain swirling with too many negative emotions and unable to focus. If he could just calm down…

 

Castiel’s body began to shake, wet blue eyes opening to find a worried Rowena in front of him. _No, don’t trust her. She’s evil…sort of. She’s killed people. She’s manipulative._ But the look of concern on her face drew the angel in and before Castiel knew what he was doing, he flung himself into the witch’s arms.

 

“Umph!” Rowena startled, suddenly having an armful of six-foot angel.

 

Rowena seemed tiny and frail as he wrapped his arms tighter around the witch. He buried his face into the space between her neck and shoulder, soaking the fabric of her robe with salty tears, body wracked with shivers. Little red tendrils of hair escaped the messy bun atop her head, falling around to frame Castiel’s face. He nestled further into the crook of her neck. Rowena’s pale skin was warm and soft and she smelled pleasant; earthy, like sandalwood. He could hear the steady rhythm of her heart and he focused on the beat. As Castiel’s breathing normalized he noticed Rowena was softly humming a tune, soothing the angel as she rubbed small circles on his back.

 

“There, there, Angel. Come, sit on the bed and have a spot of tea and you can tell me all about it, darlin’.”

 

Castiel laid his trenchcoat over the chair at the table before making his way to the bed. Rowena came back with a steaming cup of tea and he accepted with a nod and a thank you.

 

“This had better not be drugged or when I wake up I will be _very_ angry.”

 

He was only half joking. Castiel tried to give the witch a harsh glare, but considering he had spent so much time crying, he was certain his eyes were red rimmed and puffy; he probably looked hideous.

 

Rowena smiled gently, chuckling as she swept a stray curl behind the angel’s ear. “I assure you wee little angel,” she said, gently pinching Castiel’s cheek, “I have no untoward plans to be drugging you for. Your virtue is safe.”

 

Castiel snorted at that. He had no reason to trust her, this witch, especially given their history; Castiel still wasn’t quite over being put under the attack dog spell, but considering his life lately and his stunning lack of friends, he figured he had nothing to lose. Slowly, he sipped the tea, the hot liquid soothing as it coated his throat. Castiel smiled. Chamomile and honey.

 

“Now, now, dear. What’s got an angel knocking on my door, hmm? Tell me everything.”

 

Rowena laid her hand on Castiel’s thigh, patting it reassuringly while stroking the fingers of her other hand through the angel’s messy hair. It didn’t feel weird or sexual, Rowena’s touch, but rather, motherly. Well, what Castiel _assumed_ was motherly given the fact that he never had one. God was the creator of all the angels, their ‘Father’, but the angels never had a mother. He looked into green eyes that seemed genuinely concerned about him. Him. A screw-up. A nobody. An orphan.

 

In that moment, Castiel felt a whole new sadness. And he told her. He told Rowena everything. Every thought he had. Every sordid detail between him and Dean. The entire time Rowena comforting and soothing Castiel with little hugs and pats on the shoulder. Afterward, Castiel felt a bit better.

 

“I just can’t believe how childish that Winchester is behaving,” Rowena said, bumping gently against Castiel’s shoulder. “Would you like me to turn him into a toad, dear?”

 

Castiel smiled warmly at the witch, finishing off his third cup of tea. “Thank you, Rowena, but no.”

 

“Are you going back to the bunker tonight?”

 

Castiel let out a long, slow breath. It was the middle of the night. Dean would more than likely be sleeping already.

 

As if he sent out some telepathic message, Castiel’s phone began to ring. He fished it out of his pants pocket and glanced at the caller ID. Dean.

 

“Is that him?” Rowena asked, leaning over to see the phone.

 

“Yes.”

 

“Let me see.” She held out her palm.

 

“Uh, I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”

 

The witch rolled her eyes and snatched the phone out of Castiel’s hand. “Hey!”

 

Rowena tsked the angel, shutting off the phone as the hunter called a second time in a row. “Let him stew in his juices tonight, Darlin'”

 

She got up and shooed Castiel off the bed, turning it down for the evening. Rowena slipped off her robe, hanging it in the small hotel closet as she busied herself turning off lights. She kept on the small lamp on the nightstand. It offered a warm glow around the bed as the rest of the room plunged into darkness.

 

“Do not call that boy back tonight, you hear me?”

 

“But—“

 

“Nope. You can sleep here tonight.” Rowena offered.

 

Castiel was grateful to the witch for caring for him and listening to his problems, but there was no way he trusted Rowena Macleod enough to lower his defenses and fall asleep in the same room with the witch.

 

“I don’t require sleep.” He moved to grab his coat before the witch stopped him with a hand on his arm.

 

“Oh, wee Angel. You can lay down and read a book then.” There was that concern in her eyes again and she frowned, giving Castiel’s arm a little squeeze. “I don’t want you going back to the bunker tonight and falling for that Winchester’s tricks, only to have your heart shattered again in the morning.” She gave him a quick pat on the face and went over to a large bag and began ruffling through it. “Ah, here we are!” Rowena smiled, handing the angel a book.

 

He looked from the book to Rowena, a crease in his brow. “Little Women?”

 

“It’s a fantastic book. Now, come along, Angel, off to bed with you.”

 

She took him by the hand and led him to bed. Castiel looked around nervously as Rowena told him to strip down and hop in. The angel shuffled his feet, eyes darting nervously around the room. After a minute of awkward silence, the witch laughed.

 

“I don’t mean to strip down to your skivvies, love! Just get comfy. You know, lose the suit jacket, lose the tie and shoes. Maybe untuck your shirt.” She smiled wide and her eyes sparkled with a sort of youthful glee. “Come now, Angel. Hop on into bed. In the morning we’ll come up with a plan for what to do about your Dean.”

 

“A plan,” Castiel echoed, “What do you mean?” He asked, slipping underneath the covers with his borrowed book and trying to ignore the butterflies at the notion of Dean being _his_.

 

“We’ll talk in the morning, dear.”

 

Rowena pulled the blankets to the angel’s chest tucking him in before placing a chaste kiss on his forehead. Warmth bloomed in Castiel’s chest as he realized she was tucking him into bed like a mother would a small child. He ached at the thought that he didn’t have a real family. Aside from the Winchesters, he didn’t really have anyone. What if he had ruined his friendship with Dean? Rowena’s soothing voice brought the angel back to himself.

 

“Stop thinking so hard, dear. I can see smoke. We’ll get it sorted in the morning.”

 

Rowena got into her side of the bed and slipped a sleeping mask over her eyes.

 

“Goodnight, Castiel.”

 

He couldn’t believe the kindness the witch had shown him tonight and eventually he would get around to asking her why. But for now, he decided to let it be.

 

“Goodnight, Rowena. And…thank you. For everything.”

 

“Mhm,” Rowena replied, sleepily.

 

Castiel cracked open Little Women and began to read.

 

The next morning Castiel and Rowena went to breakfast to discuss her plan. When he turned his phone back on he had several missed calls and texts from Dean and one from Sam. Rowena suggested he text the ‘Moose’ to let him know he was alright. Castiel texted Sam back, but offered nothing of an explanation, just that he was fine.

 

After breakfast Rowena had Castiel drive to the mall. The angel was extremely uncomfortable around so many people in the enclosed space. They went from department store to department store, even stopping at a few of the smaller stores on the way, including Hot Topic, where Rowena made some jewelry suggestions.

 

“Do you really think leather wrist cuffs are necessary?” Castiel asked, petulantly.

 

“Yes.”

 

They spent several hours browsing and trying clothes on the angel. The two grabbed a quick bite in the food court before dropping all the bags in the truck. Castiel, much to his protest, ended up with an entirely new wardrobe; several pairs of jeans, long sleeved Henley’s, solid t-shirts, printed t-shirts, athletic clothing, and a few dressier clothes as well.

 

“Where am I going to put all of this, Rowena?” Castiel complained.

 

“The Winchester’s gave you your own room at the bunker, didn’t they? Just put it in the closet.”

 

“I, uh, don’t have a closet in my room.”

 

“Dresser then.”

 

Castiel lowered his gaze. “I don’t have one of those either.”

 

“Oh for the love of Pete.”

 

“Who’s Pete?”

 

Rowena drummed her fingers on the passenger door. “Well, I guess we are making another stop.”

 

They wound up at a furniture store, Castiel helping the employee load the brand new dresser into the bed of his truck. The angel felt silly, doing these things so that Dean would ‘pull his head out of his bum’ as Rowena had put it.

 

Aside from the awkwardness of shopping and trying on an insane amount of clothing, Castiel had enjoyed his day with the witch. Much to Castiel’s surprise, Rowena was actually good company. The fiery red-head was sweet, but also sassy. Kind, but also ruthless. She was funny and intelligent and Castiel couldn’t remember the last time he hung out with anyone without questioning himself. It was nice.

 

The pleasantness didn’t last forever, though, as Castiel soon realized he would have to take all his new purchases back to the bunker. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to face Dean. Castiel’s phone beeped. The angel was beginning to get annoyed. Whenever he tried to push Dean from his thoughts, the hunter would call or text at that very moment. Castiel let out a sigh and opened the message.

 

From Dean:  
 **Ok I dont know wtf is up w/ u but we got a lead on Lucifer so hightail ur feathery ass back 2 the bunker**

 

Castiel’s jaw clenched. Rowena was right. He couldn’t let Dean continue to jerk him around.

 

“What is it, dear?” she asked, putting a hand on his knee reassuringly.

 

“Dean. He said to come back to the bunker. They have a lead on Lucifer.” Castiel’s fingers flew over the keys as he drove. Rowena leaned over, gently sliding the phone from the angel’s hand.

 

“Don’t reply.”

 

“But they fou—“

 

“And we are already heading there to drop off your new things. He doesn’t need a response.” Her voice was firm, motherly.

 

The phone chimed again and Rowena looked down, laughing softly, the witch’s green eyes mischevious.

 

“Dean again?”

 

“No, it’s Fergus. He’s at the bunker. He figured you were there. He told the Winchester’s about the lead. They’re all waiting for you to arrive.”

 

The phone chimed again.

 

“My, my, aren’t you the popular one.” She held the phone up to show the most recent message. This one from Sam.

 

From Sam:  
 **Hey, Cas, you okay, man? Dean and I are worried about you.**

 

“Do you mind if I answer since you’re driving?”

 

“So you’re going to respond to Sam but not to Dean?”

 

“Exactly.”

 

To Sam:  
 _I’m fine. Stayed at a friends last night. Be at the bunker soon._

Castiel’s phone began overflowing with messages.

 

From Sam:  
 **Ok. See you soon.**

 

From Dean:  
 **friend? What friend?!**

 

From Dean:  
 **all ur friends…and ur frenemy, are sitting in this room!**

 

From Dean:  
 **where the fuck r u?**

 

From 666:  
 **Trouble in paradise, Feathers?**

 

Castiel grabbed his phone, quickly scanning the messages. His jaw was tense and a pain throbbed behind his right eye, spreading to his temple and down into the angel’s neck and shoulders. He fired a retort back to Crowley and tossed the phone back in Rowena’s lap. The response was instantaneous.

 

To 666:  
 _Eat me_

 

From 666:  
 **Spread ‘em [tongue emoji]**

 

Rowena momentarily looked scandalized. “Does my son fancy you too?”

 

When Castiel finally arrived at the bunker with Rowena in tow, he was met with a sea of shocked faces. He wasn’t certain if it was from him being clad in tight, dark-wash jeans, light gray shirt, and black leather jacket, or the fact that he had brought Rowena with him. Maybe it was a little of both. Crowley was the first to break the silence.

 

“Hello, Castiel,” The demon’s eyes hungrily ran over the angel’s body. “Don’t you look delicious.” He nodded in Rowena’s direction. “Mother.”

 

“Fergus.”

 

Dean was burning a hole in the side of Crowley’s head, knuckles white as he gripped the War Room table. His gaze swept across the room landing on Rowena. “What’s she doing here?”

 

Castiel crossed the room, head held high, strutting with a confidence he didn’t feel, with Rowena following closely behind him. He pulled out a chair for the witch, sitting in the seat next to her. Castiel kicked his feet up on the table, crossed at the ankle and laced his fingers together behind his head as he leaned back. He prayed that no one saw his hands shaking.

 

“Rowena and I were shopping all day. When I got your messages I was already on my way back to the bunker to drop some things off, thus, here she is.” The angel explained.

 

“And what, exactly, inspired this impromptu shopping trip? You wear the same fucking outfit for nine years and suddenly _now_ you want new duds?”

 

“Dean!” Sam scolded, smacking his brother’s upper arm. “Nice clothes, Cas. They look awesome.” Sam smiled.

 

“Thank you, Sam.”

 

“Is this the ‘friend’ you stayed with last night?” Dean asked, voice dripping with venom.

 

“Dean,” Sam warned.

 

“I don’t see how it’s any of your business,” Castiel replied cooly.

 

“Are you fucking her?”

 

“Dean!” Sam screamed, hazel eyes wide, “What the hell, dude?!”

 

Crowley sat back in his chair, watching the situation unfold with amusement glinting in his eyes. The King of Hell glanced between Castiel and his mother and back again. The demon smirked, shooting a knowing glance at the red-faced hunter before turning to wink at the angel.

 

“Well, if you ever decide you want to drive stick, you know where to find me, love,” The demon purred.

 

“Alright, that’s enough!” Dean shouted the same time as Sam mumbled, “I think I’m gonna be sick.”

 

“I’ll have you know, Winchester,” Rowena spat, “that I am an excellent lover.”

 

“Oh yeah,” Sam groaned, putting his hand over his mouth, “definitely gonna be sick.”

 

Castiel scowled at the older Winchester. How dare he? Dean wasn’t Castiel’s keeper. They weren’t boyfriends. They weren’t even technically together. They had been intimate a few times, so what? As Dean had so clearly informed him recently, the hunter was _not_ Castiel’s mother.

 

“Are we going to get to the reason we are all here?” Castiel pinned Dean with a harsh glare, “Neither of which is my shopping habits or sex life.” The angel’s mouth quirked up on one side. “Unless, of course, you _want_ me to go into detail about my recent sex life. Which I will _gladly_ do.” He said, keeping his eyes on Dean, who now looked like a deer caught in headlights.

 

Crowley’s hand shot up high in the air. “Oooh, ooh, me! I want to hear about your recent sexcapades!” The demon paused, wrinkling his nose. “Unless, of course, you _did_ sleep with mother. Then, nevermind.”

 

“Well, technically, I guess it was me who _slept_ with him.”

 

Castiel sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Not helping, Rowena.”

 

“Ew, really?” Sam winced, cheeks tinged pink. “I mean…uh…nevermind.”

 

“Well,” Crowley clapped his hands together, leaning his elbows on the table. “That’s a sickening image of nightmarish proportions.”

 

Dean continued to stare at the angel, his face dark and angry. The hunter finally sat down in the empty seat next to Sam, on the opposite side of the table from Castiel and Rowena, with Crowley to Castiel’s left at the side of the table, making himself faux ‘head’ of the table.

 

“My sources tell me that Lucifer is back, Vince’s body completely healed, and his band is giving a concert in LA.”

 

Crowley looked at each one of them as he spoke, his gaze lingering a bit longer on the witch. Crowley might play the big bad demon, but Castiel knew that Crowley was deeply concerned for the well-being of his mother, no matter the rocky past between them.

 

“LA?” Dean scoffed, “Like Los Angeles, California, LA?”

 

“Do you know another LA?” Crowley quipped.

 

Sam tilted his head, eyes pinched in confusion. “He’s doing a rock concert.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Lucifer.”

 

“Again, Yes.” Crowley was clearly getting bored.

 

“Why?”

 

The demon rolled his eyes. He stood from the table, running his hands down the front of his black suit. “Haven’t the foggiest. We can ask him when we get there. Now, Dean, darling. Do you happen to have any good Brandy laying around this dusty old dump?”

 

“Okay, first off, fuck you. Second,” Dean ticked off on his fingers, “My home is not a ‘dusty old dump’, you pompous ass. And third, you aren’t touching my liquor.”

 

“Hmm, well, I guess I’ll be right back then. Say, lads, why don’t you pack for the drive and I’ll be back in say, oh, thirty minutes and we’ll come up with a game plan, yeah?”

 

In a blink, the demon was gone.

 

“Well,” Rowena stood, red curls bouncing around her shoulders. “I’ll head to the truck and gather your things, Castiel and you can show me where your room is—“

 

“He ain’t showing you anything, lady!” Dean snapped.

 

Rowena arched an eyebrow at the elder Winchester, amused. “Castiel, love,” She said, turning toward the angel, “Perhaps you could get the Giant to help with the dresser.” She turned her back then, completely ignoring a seething Dean Winchester as she walked to the bunker’s garage.

 

Dean turned his fury toward the angel. “Can I have a word with you, Cas? Alone.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on Tumblr [LoverAwakened](http://www.lover-awakened.tumblr.com)


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley, Rowena, and Team Free Will come up with a battle plan to track down Lucifer before he starts massacring innocent people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that I usually update once or twice a month and this hasn't been updated since August. First, I would like to say thank you; thank you for waiting patiently, thank you for reading this, and as always, thank you for any kudos and/or comments-they mean the world to me. 
> 
> A lot happened that contributed to the mini hiatus this fic has been on. As many of you know, I have three children under 8 years old. All of them are in school this year, all of them are doing some sort of extra curricular activity-soccer, ballet, dance- and they will always be my number one priority.
> 
> So many things happened during the writing of this chapter. I have been writing this since August, I shit-you-not, and it is THE longest chapter I've written for this fic so far. I actually wrote and deleted this chapter about three different times. I added some scenes. Took some scenes out. Fucking changed the whole thing. I wanted to make sure that before I posted it, I was happy with it. I feel horrible that it took so long to get this out to you guys, but I didn't want to rush through the chapter and have a chapter of garbage up just so I could have it posted. 
> 
> I'm happy with the result, and I hope you all enjoy the chapter as well. 
> 
> Take care, my lovelies, and happy thanksgiving (if you celebrate that)

Dean grabbed Castiel by the sleeve of his new leather jacket, dragging him into the hallway opposite the direction Rowena was heading.

 

“What’s your problem, Dean?” The angel sighed irritated and rolled his eyes. He hoped Dean couldn’t see the slight tremble of his hands. He could feel his heart hammering in his chest as he focused on controlling his breathing.

 

Dean was silent for a moment. The muscles in his jaw ticked and the hunter’s fists clenched and unclenched repeatedly. Castiel braced himself for an angry outburst, physical violence, possibly. Much to the angel’s surprise, neither came. Dean took a deep breath. When he looked at Castiel, there was pain in his eyes. It reminded him of that first night he walked into Dean’s bedroom after his mother left, the hunter deep in a horrific nightmare. There was a slight tremor in Dean’s voice as he spoke.

 

“What’s going on with you, Cas?” He reached a hand towards the angel but changed his mind, quickly pulling it back. “You said you were on your way back last night and you never showed.” Dean swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing as he struggled to find the words. “You didn’t answer my calls or texts. Hell, you didn’t even answer Sam. I—we were worried about you, man. That’s not okay.” He chewed his lower lip.

 

Castiel wanted to apologize for worrying Dean. That was not his intention. The conversation between the brothers rushed back to him, then, igniting his anger once more, and instead of apologizing, he went with, “You’re right. I should have let Sam know I changed my mind about staying at the bunker.”

 

Anger sparked behind jade eyes. “Sam? You shoulda let Sam know?”

 

“Well, I probably could have let you both know last night, considering I came here first,” Dean’s head shot up, his mouth gaping open, “but you and your brother seemed to be in such a heated discussion about me, I didn’t want to be rude and interrupt.” Castiel snarled, glaring icily at Dean, chin tipped up defiantly.

 

Dean’s eyes widened and he took a few steps back, obviously shocked to find that Castiel was in the bunker at all last night and had overheard them.

 

“You should probably go pack for the trip.” Castiel continued, refusing to give Dean a chance to talk his way out of this one. He turned on his heel, striding down the hall with an air of confidence, even though inside the angel felt like he was going to vomit at any moment.

 

///

 

Castiel and Sam moved the angel’s new dresser into his bedroom. Castiel’s breath caught in his throat at the site of his room. What was once the bare minimum –twin bed with cheap sheets, thin beige blanket with one flat pillow, empty writing desk with chair and a nightstand with a small ugly lamp with a low watt lightbulb –was now fully decorated.

 

His bed was fitted with cerulean Egyptian cotton sheets and a thick white goose down comforter with thin, horizontal cerulean stripes. The head of the bed had two fluffy pillows for sleeping in white pillowcases and a handful of smaller decorative pillows in different hues of blue. The small ugly lamp was replaced with a beautiful lamp with a crystal base and a cerulean lamp shade to match the bedding, adorned with small, clear beads and larger crystals with teardrop crystals hanging off the rim of the lamp shade. On top of his once empty writing desk sat a silver two-tier tray, an elegant silver pen, and a leather-bound journal. Next to that was a silver filigree picture frame; waiting for a happy memory to be placed inside.

 

Castiel glanced to the foot of his newly decorated bed where Rowena had folded most his clothes, waiting for the arrival of the dresser, and placed the dress shirts and few jackets he purchased on hangers.

 

His room looked beautiful. Elegant. Like someone really lived there. Like he _belonged_ there. The angel felt the sting of tears prickling at his eyes. While Rowena fussed with some little knickknacks and other odds and ends for the tops of his nightstand and desk, Sam glanced nervously between Castiel and Rowena. Finally, the angel had had enough.

 

“What’s on your mind, Sam?” The angel asked sharply.

 

“What? Oh, um, nothing. Nothing.”

 

Castiel quirked his eyebrow.

 

“I just—what’s going on with you, man?”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“I mean, there’s this…this _thing_ happening between you and my brother—and don’t even deny it!” Sam snapped, cutting off the angel before he could argue. “And you flake on us last night and then today you’re here with her,” Sam gestured to Rowena who scoffed, “and you got all new clothes and you…you _slept_ with her?”

 

Rowena’s laugh rang out in the room like a melody. Castiel’s intense blue eyes speared through her, but if she was intimidated, she certainly didn’t show it.

 

“Let’s get something straight, Sam. I did not have intercourse with Rowena— “

 

“Ugh, dude!” Sam cringed, “Sex. Humans just say ‘sex’.”

 

The angel huffed an annoyed breath, pinching the bridge of his nose between two fingers. “Fine. Sex. Rowena and I did not have sex last night.”

 

“But she said— “

 

“Will you let me finish!”

 

Sam’s eyes widened and his sat up a little straighter, hands held in front of him in a peaceful gesture. “Sure, man. Yeah, of course.”

 

Dean sent me a text wanting me to come…to come home. I raced over here and found you two arguing in the garage. About me.” Sam had the good sense to look contrite. “I was upset. I didn’t want to hear anymore. I…I _couldn’t_ hear anymore,” Castiel bowed his head, eyes closed, “So I ran. I ran to my truck and drove until eventually, I’m not even sure why, I ended up at Rowena’s hotel room.”

 

“Don’t look at me like that Giant, I had nothing to do with it. He’s not bewitched. I was completely surprised when he showed up at my door.”

 

Sam glared at her like he didn’t believe her. Castiel could understand. They all had a shaky relationship with the witch. If you could call it a relationship. The angel still couldn’t believe he went to Rowena in the first place, but now, he was certainly glad he did. She had taken him under her wing, so to speak, and he finally felt like he had a friend.

 

Sam is like a brother to him and Dean…well Dean had always been more. But Castiel had never had someone outside of the brothers. The Winchester’s had had so many over the years; Bobby, Ellen and Jo, Garth, Charlie, Kevin. Other than the Winchester’s themselves, Castiel had no one. No friends. No family. Only angels he used to serve with, most which now hated him and wanted him dead.

 

Castiel knew it was foolish to trust Rowena; her relationship with the Winchesters was nothing if not fickle, but maybe it was worth a try. Castiel looked once more around the room carefully decorated by Rowena’s hand. He felt the sharp sting of tears behind his eyes again, Castiel battling to keep his emotions in check.

 

“Sam, could you leave us please?” Castiel swallowed, slowly lowering himself to sit on his bed.

 

Sam looked like he had more to say, but thankfully only nodded in silence and slipped out of the bedroom. Castiel finally released the shuddering breath he’d been holding. Living the brothers’ argument from last night over and over again was taking its toll on the angel. He dragged his hands over his face and through his hair. The bed dipped as Rowena took a seat next to the angel, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and drawing his face to her chest.

 

“Alright now. There, there, sweet Angel,” she cooed, carding her fingers through Castiel’s unruly strands. “Let it all out, dear.”

 

And with those five little words the floodgates opened. The emotional turmoil raged within the angel and he could no longer deny the urge inside. And so, he cried. He cried until he was nothing more than a shaking, wet, mucous-y mess. And the witch, the woman who despised and even tried to murder her own son, held the angel throughout the whole ordeal in tender arms whispering kind, soothing words into Castiel’s ear and pressing soft, chaste kisses to his temple.

 

Taking a few calming breaths, Castiel flooded his body with grace, tamping down on his body’s physical whirlwind. Tears stopped flowing, mucous stopped dripping, and his body stopped shaking as his heartrate slowed to a calm, steady pace. He lifted his head, gazing into the witch’s eyes and seeing warmth there. Castiel was an absolute wreck, yet the witch had been nothing but wonderful to him.

 

Fear crept into the back of the angel’s mind. What was Rowena getting out of this? Nothing she does is ever without an ulterior motive. The last thing Castiel wants to do is destroy the one friendship outside the Winchesters he has, but waiting for the other shoe to drop was eating away at him.

 

“Why are you doing this for me, Rowena?” Her brows furrow and her eyes search the angel’s face. “I am grateful for the friendship and the ‘mother-hen’ routine, extremely grateful,” he added quickly, “but you don’t even like your own son, and yet you are treating me as a parent would their offspring. Rowena stiffened. “Why do you hate your son so much?”

 

 Castiel immediately felt guilty, having clearly overstepped his bounds. “I don’t wish to pry, Rowena, I just don’t understand.”

 

She stared straight ahead seeing nothing. Well, perhaps not ‘nothing’ but something from a lifetime ago. Several lifetimes ago, Castiel imagined. “What has my son told you about his childhood?”

 

Castiel squirmed uncomfortably. There was a time not long ago when the angel wouldn’t have thought twice about offending the witch. Hell, a couple years ago he volunteered to kill her for calling him a fish. But now…now she was becoming one of his closest friends.

 

“He said…he said you sold him for three pigs.” Castiel looked down at his feet, heat rising in his cheeks as he waited patiently for Rowena to continue.

 

Her face was still a blank mask, “I lied to him,” she frowned, “I told him I didn’t know who his father was. That he was conceived at a Winter Solstice orgy.”

 

Castiel’s head snapped up at that and Rowena gave a soft smile, “Not that I didn’t participate in those, but that wasn’t until after I gave up Fergus.”

 

Rowena sighed, closing her eyes. “His name was Cailin and he was the love of my life. I had just recently started practicing witchcraft with the Grand Coven, instead of being a solo practitioner, and when they learned that Cailin didn’t practice the craft they wanted me to end things with him,” Rowena scoffed, “well, that and the fact that he was married to someone else.”

 

Castiel’s eyes widened in surprise, but he remained silent, wanting to hear Rowena’s story.

 

“And of course by then I was already pregnant with Fergus. They didn’t know, but I’m certain they would have made me end the pregnancy if I left Cailin.” The witch shook her head, a hollow laugh leaving her throat. “But I _didn’t_ leave Cailin and I was forced out of the Grand Coven. I was so blinded by my love of him that I didn’t realize he had been sleeping with every willing maiden in the village.”

 

Castiel took her tiny hand in his, squeezing gently.

 

“He used to whisper sweet nothings to me as we lay naked under the stars. He told me how his wife was a horrible wretch and that he had only married her to make his family happy, that he was going to leave her and be with me and our unborn child.”

 

Tears welled up in her eyes. Castiel didn’t think it was possible to look to heartbroken and angry at the same time.

 

“During my last month of pregnancy I came home to find Cailin in _my_ bed with another woman. _”_ she spat the word like it was poison on her tongue. “He laughed at me. Actually laughed at me. Told me I was a naïve young girl and didn’t I realize he had _needs_ that had to be attended to that I wasn’t keeping up with.” Rowena’s hand unconsciously rubbed her now-flat abdomen. “Apparently, everyone in the village knew about Cailin and his lustful ways. Everyone except me.”

 

Castiel couldn’t even begin to imagine the embarrassment of being the talk of a village, to be the last to know your loved one had betrayed your trust. His heart broke for the poor woman she once was, ached for the woman she had to become because of that.

 

“I went to see the High Priestess of the Grand Coven. She turned her back on me and refused to take me in. Told me I should have left Cailin when she commanded it of me.” Rowena’s body shook with unbridled rage. “I had Fergus _alone_ in a hovel. Cailin went back to his _grand_ wife and his _grand_ house while I lay pathetic and half-dead on a straw mat, my thighs slick with blood. I don’t even know how Fergus and I survived, but we did. And then it was just the two of us.”

 

Castiel pulled her against him, cradling her in his arms, gently rubbing soothing circles on her back.

 

“As Fergus got older I could see more and more of his father in him. Every time I looked at that wee babe’s face I could _feel_ his father’s betrayal cutting me to pieces all over again.” Green eyes shone wetly as they looked into his and her lower lip quivered slightly. “I know what you must be thinking. A mother who hates her own child. I’m a monster.” She buried her face in Castiel’s chest, fisting the fabric of his shirt. “But love is weakness and I promised myself I would never be at someone else’s mercy. Never let someone have that kind of power over me again.”

 

She pulled away from the angel, sitting up, and cleared her throat, composing herself. “I cared for Fergus the best I could for eight years. There was a lovely couple in a neighboring village we were visiting; the wife a seamstress and the husband a merchant. They couldn’t have children of their own and they just fawned over that wee little boy. So, I lied to them, told them I was dying and that soon Fergus would be all alone. They were more than happy to take him in. They didn’t have much in the way of money so they offered me three pigs. I left and never looked back.”

 

Castiel stared at Rowena, unmoving, unsure if he should offer the witch comfort or just leave her be. She turned to him then, smiling.

 

“Eventually, I found Oscar. The little Polish boy. He taught me what it was to love again, even just for a short while. And now, I don’t know why, but there’s you.”

 

“You…you love me?” Castiel asked, shocked.

 

Rowena laughed softly, “Well, I wouldn’t exactly call it _love_ , but I am quite fond of you, Feathers.” She smiled warmly now and Castiel grinned, warmth spreading through his chest and filling his heart. He was glad to have formed this friendship with the witch.

 

 

///

 

 

Everyone had gathered back around the table when Crowley showed up again.

 

Castiel headed to the kitchen to make Rowena some tea. She was putting on a good show for everyone else, but Castiel could see through her façade. Bringing up her past, a past the witch had spent centuries repressing, was rough on Rowena. He figured some hot tea with a splash of milk and honey might calm her nerves a bit. Discussing Lucifer —the angel who had betrayed and killed Rowena once— after dredging up the horrific betrayal of the lover in her past, would probably do a number on the witch mentally. Castiel wanted to do anything, no matter how small, to comfort his friend.

 

Castiel reached in the cupboard for a mug, hesitating over his Bee mug. Dean would probably be upset if he let the witch use the mug Dean had bought especially for him. The hunter was already upset with Castiel for bringing Rowena in the first place.

 

After silently arguing with himself, Castiel pushed down his ‘Dean-induced anxiety’ and snatched the bee mug from the cupboard. He didn’t care if the hunter threw a tantrum like a toddler. The angel was quite sure Dean would find something to argue about either way.

 

Crowley stood at the head of the table, hands in his pockets, looking very smug. Sam and Dean sat on the same side of the table again, of course, and Rowena sat across from Sam, leaving a seat open next to her. Directly across from the open chair was an angry looking Dean.

 

“Have a cup of tea, Rowena.” Castiel smiled, gently placing the steaming mug in front of her.

 

She picked it up and blew across the top, smirking at the angel. “If this is drugged, I’m going to be very angry,” she teased, echoing the angel’s own words from the previous evening. Had it really only been one day?

 

“Why would he drug you?” Sam asked, confused, hazel eyes darting up to the angel.

 

Rowena and Castiel are both laughing and everyone in the room is looking at them like they’re insane. “It’s an inside joke, Sam,” Castiel replied.

 

“Oh, they have inside jokes now,” Dean grumbled, “That’s just great. That’s…that’s _awesome_.”

 

Crowley cleared his throat, gaining the attention of the room. “Alright, children. Enough squabbling.”

 

The demon speared Dean with a glare, but the hunter was too busy staring down Rowena. His expression was deadly, the kind he normally saved for the things he hunted. Dean’s eyes flicked to Castiel, his demeanor changing slightly as he not-so-subtlely scanned over the angel’s torso, still clad in the leather jacket.

 

There was a fire burning behind those green eyes that threatened to consume the angel whole. A tingle ran down Castiel’s spine and as his eyes tracked the hunter’s tongue sweeping slowly over his plump lower lip and he felt a tingle between his legs. Castiel hoped no one noticed as he adjusted his rapidly tightening jeans. The smirk on Dean’s face told him he failed.

 

“I have been informed that our favorite rock star is going to hold a private concert for a select audience. Vince Vincente is getting together with the original Ladyhearts for one night only; this Saturday night.”

 

“Great, where?” Sam asked, relieved.

 

“It’s being kept secret and nobody is spilling.”

 

Dean rolled his eyes, huffing out a breath, “Great, well, that’s just super.” Dean banged his fist on the table. “How the hell are we supposed to find out?”

 

“I’ve got a contact in LA, I’ll see if I can weasel the location out of him. Moose, Squirrel, you two get to Vincente’s publicist and see if you can charm your way to a location.” Crowley wrinkled his nose, “you might want to change, though. You’re not going to making any women quiver in that.”

 

“Oh, so we should dress like superstar over there?” Dean snorted, gesturing toward the angel.

 

The comment stabbed through Castiel’s heart. It may not have initially been his idea for new clothing, but he thought he looked decent enough. He stared coldly at the hunter, not backing down.

 

“At least I don’t look like a lumberjack,” Castiel scowled.

 

The mild look of surprise on Dean’s face from his remark left Castiel with a satisfied, smug look on his own face. Sam coughed awkwardly into his fist, trying to hide his smile, while Dean brushed the whole thing off.

 

“Yeah, well, terrific. What are we gonna do if that doesn’t work?”

 

“I can try to contact Vince’s best friend Tommy again,” Castiel offered, “he is an original member of the Ladyhearts, which means he’ll be playing, so he’ll know where this secret concert is being held.”

 

“Ah, yes, but will he give it up to you, Agent _Beyoncé_?” Crowley raised his brow.

 

Castiel opened his mouth to reply, but Rowena beat him to it. “Knock it off, Fergus, of course the angel can compel him to give up the location.” She took a sip of tea, earning what Castiel assumed was supposed to be another hateful glare from Dean, but instead looked like a pouty child, upset that he hadn’t gotten his way.

 

“Alright, Dean and I will head out, we’ve already got our bags in the Impala, and I’ll try to get us a meeting with the publicist on the drive over.” Sam said.

 

“Yeah, whatever,” Dean mumbled.

 

“We have to swing by Rowena’s hotel to gather some ingredients for the immobilization spell. I’ll get a hold of Tommy and see if I can convince him to tell me where the concert is being held.”

 

“We’ve got the Enochian cuffs and the holy oil in the trunk.” Sam added.

 

“Terrific, let’s hope that’s enough to hold him.” Crowley waved a hand. “See you lads there.” And then the demon was gone.

 

“Alrighty. Operation: We’re-Fucking-Stupid-And-We’re-All-Gonna-Die is a go.” Dean clapped his hands together as he stood from the table. “This is a suicide mission.” Dean muttered under his breath, Sam nodded in agreement.

 

Castiel stood and took Rowena’s empty mug, giving her a small smile and squeeze on the shoulder before heading to the kitchen.

 

He turned on the hot water and grabbed the little dish wand from the sink, washing the bee mug. As he was drying it to put it back in the cupboard he heard a rustle come from behind. The scent of leather and gun oil filled his nostrils and Castiel discreetly breathed it in. No matter what was going on between them, Dean’s scent always comforted him.

 

“Hey,” Dean rubbed a hand on the back of his neck approaching the angel slowly.

 

Castiel wanted to reach out and touch him, feel the heat of his tan skin under the angel’s fingertips, run his fingers through the hunter’s light brown hair, but Castiel was still angry.

 

“If you’re here to give me the ‘last-night-on-Earth’ speech, Dean, you can save it.”

 

Dean scoffed, looking genuinely offended. “What? No, man, that’s not…why would you think that?”

 

“Operation: we’re-fucking-stupid-and-we’re-all-gonna-die.”

 

A blush stained the hunter’s cheeks. “Right, yeah, okay. I can see how you would think that. But that’s not why I’m here.” Dean stepped forward, determined, leaving a mere foot of space between them.

 

He could smell the faint scent of liquor on Dean’s breathe and his chest ached. Castiel guessed it could be worse. The hunter would never get blackout drunk before a huge case so Castiel was at least thankful for that.

 

“You’ve been drinking.” There was a little more bite to his voice than the angel intended.

 

Dean shrugged, “Yeah, a bit. I, uh, I called my mom.”

 

Castiel’s face softened and he reached out to grab Dean’s shoulder over the faded handprint scar. Dean leaned into the touch, eyes drifting shut. “Yeah, wanted to let her know what was going on. I mean, I saw her for a little bit at Jody’s but, uh, she still needs her space or whatever.”

 

“Oh, Dean.” Castiel frowned.

 

Dean took a step back, “Yeah, don’t need your pity, Cas.”

 

“It’s not pity, Dean.”

 

The hunter shook his head, “Anyway, just figured I’d talk to her before we left in case things go south.” When Dean lifted his eyes, Castiel saw nothing but pain and guilt; he missed the vibrant green of those eyes, the melodious sound of Dean’s laughter, the warmth his body radiated when they were pressed together in Dean’s bed, letting their passion guide them.

 

“Look, I know I’ve got issues, okay, and I’m trying to figure some shit out, but that doesn’t change how I feel about you. And if we’re gonna go try and toss Lucifer’s ass back in his cage and throw away the fucking key, then I just wanted you to know that.”

 

“And how do you feel about me?” Castiel whispered, afraid of the answer.

 

_Buddy. Pal. Brother._

 

Then, much to the angel’s surprise, Dean closed the distance between them, right there in the kitchen, where anyone could walk in and see them. It was a chaste kiss, Dean being incredibly tender, thumb running along Castiel’s cheekbone, the other hand settling on the angel’s hip. The press of Dean’s lips was gentle, feeling like forever and at the same time not nearly long enough before the hunter pulled away, Castiel chasing his lips.

 

“After this goes down, we’ll sit down and talk, alright?” Dean offered.

 

Castiel nodded, not trusting his voice not to shake apart if he attempted to speak. Dean straightened up clearing his throat, lips pulling up in a half smile.

 

“So, guess I’ll see you in Hollywood then.” Dean turned, walking out of the kitchen, leaving Castiel to process what the heck just happened, but not before Dean called back, “You might beat me there. Apparently, I have to hit the store on the way because I look like a lumberjack!”

 

Castiel laughed quietly.

 

Scooping the clean mug off the counter, he gently traced the cartoon bee before setting it back in the cupboard. He needed to focus. Castiel had a job to do.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team heads to LA to try and find out the location of the Ladyheart's secret reunion concert and take out Lucifer before any more people die.

Rowena and Castiel hopped in the angel’s truck and swung by Rowena’s hotel grabbing the witch’s trunk holding her wardrobe, spell books, and the ingredients she would need to cast the immobilization spell on Lucifer. He pulled onto US-281 to US-36 heading west and the two lost themselves in pleasant conversation, Castiel enjoying the company on the long drive from Lebanon to Los Angeles.

 

He made several calls to Tommy during the drive, but the Ladyheart band member wasn’t answering his phone.

 

They arrived in California just before lunch the following day, the angel having driven straight through the night since he didn’t require sleep. He turned to ask Rowena if she was hungry when Crowley appeared in the truck between the angel and witch.

 

Rowena let out a small yelp, her small frame squished against the passenger door. “Aye, what is the meaning of this, Fergus?” Rowena glared at her son.

 

“Hello to you too, mother.”

 

Castiel let out a sigh. “Oh yay. It’s you. Again.”

 

The demon turned to Castiel, placing his hand on a denim clad thigh. “Hello, gorgeous.” Crowley purred, wiggling his eyebrows seductively.

 

Castiel shot him an annoyed look, sliding the angel blade from the sleeve of his leather jacket. Grabbing the blade with his left hand, he tapped the tip against the demon’s wrist. “Remove your hand from my leg before I remove it from your body.”

 

Crowley huffed, pulling his hand back. “You’re no fun.”

 

“I’m a _lot_ of fun, actually.” Castiel smirked, giving the witch a side-glance.

 

Rowena turned her head, giggling to the window.

 

“Really, mother?” Crowley said, disgusted.

 

The angel rolled his eyes, sheathing his blade. “Is there a purpose for you being here, Crowley? Other than to annoy me.” He gave the demon a pointed look, waiting for Crowley’s answer. It was Crowley’s turn to roll his eyes.

 

“Straight to business I see. Fine. My contact at Death Siren Records, Russell, refuses to cooperate…won’t give the location of the concert.”

 

“Are you telling me that someone said no to Crowley—King of Hell—and what…you’re just gonna take it?” Castiel scoffed.

 

“Is the righteous angel of Heaven suggesting I kill an innocent human?”

 

“If he’s dealing with you, Crowley, he’s far from innocent. And I’m not suggesting you kill him. Dead men don’t speak. I’m merely inferring that you could perhaps threaten to beat the location out of him. We need to find Lucifer. Innocent people, _actual_ innocent people are going to be massacred.”

 

“And I’m _not_ of Heaven,” Castiel snarled at the demon. He always felt torn when it came to Heaven, his home for millennia. Unfortunately, it hadn’t felt like that in many years. Most angels hated Castiel’s guts. If not for him choosing Dean over Heaven, then they hated him for the Fall. He didn’t think he’d ever be forgiven. He wasn’t sure if he _wanted_ to be forgiven anymore. There’s no way Castiel would be able to go to Heaven and leave Dean. And he still didn’t agree with most of Heaven’s politics anyways.

 

“Sam and Dean should be meeting Vince’s social media manager any minute, we’ll see if they fare better. Any word from Tommy?”

 

“No, not yet.”

 

“Wonderful.”

 

Crowley blinked away to take another crack at Russell while Castiel and Rowena grabbed something to eat, figuring out a plan of attack for when they caught up to Lucifer.

 

….::::….

 

The place Rowena chose for them to eat lunch was just about the fanciest place that Castiel had ever been. The tables had cloth napkins and shiny silverware that might actually be _real_ silver. The women were all well-dressed, gold and jewels adorning their fingers, wrists, neck, and ears. Hair styled nicely. And they all took turns glancing his way. All of them. He fidgeted uncomfortably as Rowena ordered for both of them.

 

While the women were staring at him with smiles and sparkling eyes, the men in the establishment glared angrily. Well, most of them. There were a few men smiling strangely at him as well. Castiel had been on Earth for nearly a decade. Surely he was passable as human.. “Rowena,” he leaned forward with a harsh whisper, “Why is everyone staring at me?”

 

Rowena gave a cursory glance around the restaurant taking a sip of her white wine. “They’re only human, darling.” She stated, as if that explained anything. Castiel stared at her blankly, blinking owlish eyes. After a couple minutes of silence, she took pity on him. “Jealously and lust, my dear. Jealously and lust.”

 

Oh. _Oooh._ “ _Oh_ ,” Castiel said, finally understanding. A light blush stained his cheeks.

 

Their food arrived on large, white porcelain square plates, the food in tiny portions in the center, and some type of colorful sauce haphazardly squirted over the entire plate underneath the food. He poked at it with a fork, crinkling his nose in confusion and disgust.

 

“Is everything to your liking?” The waitress asked. She was probably in her early twenties, black slacks and black button-down pressed and crisp, blonde hair swept up in a tight bun atop her head.

 

Castiel looked up from his plate of ‘food’ and frowned. Rowena saved him, thanking the waitress and sending her off. As the witch began to eat her meal, Castiel continued to push his around the obscenely large plate.

 

“So, this is supposed to be food?” Rowena chuckled, nodding. “Okay, then.” He suddenly wished he was at a roadside diner with Dean eating a couple of greasy bacon cheeseburgers and fries with lots of ketchup. A feeling of unpleasantness settled over him as the angel realized, after they faced Lucifer, he might never get the chance to do so again.

 

The two of them ate their expensive bit of food on the huge patters, discussing their plan of action against Lucifer. The concert was tonight and they were running out of time to find out the secret location.

 

….::::….

 

Castiel, Sam, Dean, and Crowley sat in the pristine white furniture in the lobby of the Bellaqua Hotel looking utterly defeated. None of them spoke, each one looking off in a different direction.

 

This hotel was starting to grate on Castiel’s last nerve. Everything was just so…white. _Bright_ white. The walls were white, the floor was white, and so far, every piece of furniture he’s seen, including the front desk, had been white. It sort of reminded him of Heaven. He hated it.

 

Rowena was currently the only one of them with a smile on her face, standing at the hotel bar across the lobby and chatting up some rich businessman. She laughed at something he said—which was, no doubt, not funny—trailing perfectly manicured nails up and down the man’s forearm.

 

Castiel couldn’t even enjoy the fact that Dean wasn’t wearing some form of plaid for once. The hunter wore black skinny jeans that hugged his round ass perfectly and a black leather jacket that made the hunter look like a rock star. He was sex personified. But instead of thinking about how he’d like to get Dean out of those clothes, taking the elder Winchester apart piece by piece and putting him back together again, the angel could only think of how they all failed. None of them could secure the secret location of the Ladyheart concert.

 

Earlier that afternoon, Castiel had caught up with Tommy at Death Siren Records recording studio, begging him to give up the location of the Ladyheart concert, but Tommy still refused.

 

“Look, the royalties from our hits dried up years ago. I got two girls in college, man.” The drummer explained.

 

Castiel understood. Even though Claire Novak wasn’t technically his daughter, he felt an overwhelming responsibility to her and a desire to protect her. The angel wished that Tommy would change his mind, but he knew that was probably not going to happen. The man was trying to provide for his family. Still, though, he had to try.

 

“Did you hear about Roseleen?” Castiel questioned. Roseleen Greenfield, the hardcore Ladyheart fan, had been hospitalized the previous night after she carved Vince Vincente’s name into her chest with a switch blade simply because Vince _asked_ her to. He hoped bringing her up would force Tommy to see the power Vince wielded and the damage he was doing.

 

“Yeah, man. It’s a shame. But…she did that to herself though, right?” Tommy avoided Castiel’s eyes. He looked like _he_ didn’t even believe the words coming from his mouth.

 

Time was of the utmost importance and Castiel’s patience was wearing thin. “You do know Vince _isn’t_ Vince anymore?”

 

He could see the conflicting emotions across Tommy’s face, but still the musician refused to help Castiel out.

 

“So, you don’t care who pays the price?”

 

“Sorry.” Tommy ducked his head and side-stepped the angel, heading into the recording studio.

 

Castiel sighed, laying back in the large white chair, watching Dean poor himself vegetable water while bickering with his brother. He looked around at the thrum of people in the hotel; walking through the lobby, at the bar laughing and having drinks, coming and going from the elevator. He felt a pang of regret. Hundreds of innocent people were going to die tonight and it’s all Castiel’s fault. Again. His chest constricted and the angel felt as though a lead weight were in his stomach. How many times was he going to be the cause of the loss of human lives. How long before the Winchesters had had enough and decided they were better off without the burden of Castiel.

 

“Cas?” Sam’s voice was soft as he gently laid a hand on the angel’s shoulder, giving it a quick squeeze, bringing Castiel back from his thoughts. “You doing okay, buddy?” His hazel eyes held no pity, merely sincere concern. Castiel appreciated it.

 

“No, Sam, I’m not okay,” the angel confessed, too exhausted to lie. “I’m the one that let Lucifer out of that stupid cage. After everything we suffered to get him back in there, after everything _you_ suffered, and now…” He lowered his eyes in shame.

 

“Hey, come on, Cas, don’t beat yourself up about it.”

 

“People are going to die because of _me_ , Sam— “

 

“Hey!” The younger Winchester said sternly, “You did the best you could at the time considering the circumstances.” He knelt on the lobby floor in front of Castiel, hands on the angel’s knees. “Lucifer lied to you. He told you if you said yes to him that he could defeat the Darkness. I mean, he was a big part in locking her away in the first place, right? Of course you believed him. We _all_ did.”

 

Sam sighed, “Cas, Amara was a threat to the whole world, to all of existence actually. And even though Satan killed some angels, tried to take over Heaven, and—once again—tried to kill Dean and I, he did try to rally Heaven against the Darkness. He even collected ‘hands of God’ to try and take her out.”

 

He paused for a moment, maintaining Castiel’s eye contact. The angel wanted to look away in shame, but there was something so earnest in Sam’s expression that he just couldn’t.

 

“Now, I’m not saying it was the best idea, but it was pretty much the only option at the time. And you saved my life, Cas. In the cage with Lucifer _and_ in the bunker when Dean traveled back in time. I don’t think I’ve ever thanked you for that, Cas. Thank you.”

 

Sam wrapped his arms around the angel in a tight hug. Castiel awkwardly raised his arms linking them around the hunter, giving him a firm pat on the back. “You’re welcome, Sam. But you don’t need to thank me. You’re my family. I would gladly give my life for yours.”

 

When Sam pulled back from the embrace his hazel eyes shone with unshed tears.

 

The vibration of the angel’s phone broke their moment. Castiel shifted, pulling the cell phone from the inside pocket of his leather jacket.

 

**Tommy:**

_Concert is at Club Meteor_

 

Castiel jerked upright, staring at his phone in disbelief, eyes wide and mouth ajar.

 

“Cas?” Dean’s concerned voice floated across the coffee table.

 

“What is it?” Sam asked.

 

Castiel looked into the eyes of each of the brothers, his face in awe. “It’s Tommy,” he said breathless. “I’ve got the location.”

 

Sam and Dean’s faces lit up, no doubt matching the sheer joy displayed on the angel’s face.

 

“About bloody time.” Crowley grumbled.

 

Castiel scowled at the demon.

 

“Mother!” The demon shouted across the lobby, drawing the attention of most everyone in the room. “Douse the fire in your loins. We’ve got the location.”

 

“You don’t gotta be a dick, Crowley.” Dean said.

 

Castiel smiled, warmed that even though Dean didn’t care much for the witch he was defending her.

 

Rowena’s glare was murderous as she looked across the room at her son. She whispered something to the gentleman next to her, sliding him a card. Gracefully she strode across the lobby, lace-sleeved emerald dress snug over her slender frame. “I didn’t raise ya to have such poor manners, Fergus.”

 

“You didn’t raise me at all, Mother.” Crowley scoffed, rolling his eyes. He pulled a pocket watch from the jacket of his all-black Armani suit, checking the time. “The concert begins in less than an hour, we don’t have time to dawdle,” he grumbled.

 

The group triple checked that they had everything they needed for the plan, Dean throwing the supplies into the trunk of the Impala while the rest of them squeezed into the Chevy. Sam sat shotgun next to Dean, while the other three decided it would be best to squish themselves in Baby’s backseat; Crowley and Castiel on the outsides with the tiny witch in the middle.

 

As they drove, the silence that settled over them inside the vehicle was thick and heavy, their faces grim as they all sat face-forward and not moving a muscle, except Dean, who lifted his hand off the steering wheel every few minutes to check his wristwatch.

 

His green eyes narrowed, determined. The hunter had a white-knuckle grip on the wheel as they sped down the street, slamming on the brakes in front of Club Meteor, the Impala jerking harshly to a stop as Dean swerved, parking against the curb in front of the main doors of the tiny red cinder-block building.

 

Sam and Dean exited the vehicle simultaneously as the others scrambled out of the backseat after them; Castiel holding out his hand to help Rowena out of the car. Dean turned around to address the group.

 

“Cas, Crowley, find Lucifer. Distract him for, like, five minutes or so and then lure him to the stage. Rowena, while they’re distracting Lucifer, set up the stuff we need off the side of the stage out of sight. Sam and I will try to get the crowd out of here before Lucifer notices what’s going on. We’ve got one shot people. Let’s do this.”

 

Dean stayed put as everyone headed off according to the elder Winchester’s instructions. As Castiel walked by, Dean reached out, grabbing the sleeve of the angel’s jacket, stopping him in his tracks. Concern came over Dean’s face briefly, green eyes searching Castiel’s blue.

 

“Cas,” his voice hitched on the angel’s name, fingers grabbing tighter to the leather sleeve. Shaking his head, Dean cleared his throat and tried again. “Cas, just…be careful, okay? Come back to me in one piece?” Dean pleaded.

 

“Of course, Dean.”

 

Castiel figured Dean would shake the feelings off, put on his ‘battle face’, maybe pat him on the shoulder or give the angel an ‘alright, buddy’. What Castiel did not expect, was Dean stepping so their bodies were flush chest to hip, Dean wrapping an arm around Castiel’s waist while the other hand cradled the angel’s skull, pressing a hard, urgent kiss to Castiel’s lips.

 

Castiel remained unmoving momentarily, the shock that Dean would do such an intimate act with him out in the open where strangers could see them—and judging from the wolf-whistles and cat-calls, a few by-standers had—kept the angel still, but soon his lips were moving in rhythm with the hunter.

 

A sigh escaped Castiel’s lips as he relaxed into Dean’s warm embrace. The hunter growled, using his mouth to part Castiel’s, tongue sliding desperately against the angel’s; running it up the roof of Castiel’s mouth, trailing behind the angel’s front teeth, before plunging deep once again, swirling their tongues together.

 

When Dean broke the kiss, Castiel chased the hunter’s lips, a whine forming in the back of his throat. Their foreheads rested against each other’s, hot breath mingling in the night air of LA.

 

“Don’t die.” Dean commanded, his harsh voice in contrast to the gentle kiss he placed on Castiel’s forehead.

 

They pulled apart completely, aside from their fingers interlaced in the space between them. Castiel already missed the heat of Dean’s body.

 

“You too.”

 

Dean nodded, pulling his hands away before turning back to the main doors of the club. Reaching his fingers to his spit-slick lips, Castiel sent up a silent prayer for a miracle. They’d need it.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Team Free Will, Crowley, and Rowena confront Lucifer at Club Meteor and the battle is bloody. They need to find a way to stop the archangel in order to prevent further loss of life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a weird chapter to write because I had to interweave my writing/dialogue in with some dialogue from episode 12x07 Rock Never Dies (written by Robert Berens). Some things are different and unique to my story, but most of Lucifer's dialogue has been pulled or tweaked from that specific episode.
> 
>  
> 
> **SPOILER ALERT FOR CHAPTER 13**
> 
> A few lines of dialogue are also pulled from episode 12x12 Stuck in the Middle With You (written by Davy Perez) 
> 
> ;)

The sun was beginning its descent into the horizon, faded pinks and oranges streaking across the sky mingling with blue. Birds could still be heard over the hustle and bustle of LA night life, the feathered creatures getting ready to settle in their nests for the night. The chill of the evening air kissed Castiel’s skin and the angel had a fleeting image of a white-painted gazebo in the center of a glorious botanical garden; bees buzzing from flower to flower collecting pollen from the brightly colored angiosperms as he and Dean sat outside the bunker on a gliding bench swing.

 

The angel shook the absurd domestic fantasy from his mind.

 

Castiel and Crowley made their way to the back lot of Club Meteor, pushing their way through a sea of fans eagerly waiting to be let inside. Some wore Ladyheart tee shirts and jeans while others dressed for a night out, their energy infectious; chatting and snapping photos with each other. Castiel kept his head down, maneuvering through the people, doing his best to not be caught in any photos. Dean had called it ‘photobombing’.

 

At the back exit of the club was a tall and heavily muscled dark-skinned man in an all-black suit, complete with black shades and a shaved head. He stood, large arms crossed over his chest, a serious expression on his face.

 

Anyone else would have been intimidated.

 

Not Castiel.

 

“You know who wears sunglasses at night?” The demon whispered, leaning over.

 

“Shut up, Crowley.”

 

As they approached the guard, his right hand slipped inside his suit jacket, presumably to grip a concealed weapon in a shoulder holster.

 

“Hey,” the guard addressed them wearily, “No one gets in this way, y’all need to go around front to the main entrance.”

 

Crowley straightened the front of his suit jacket, giving his best bullshit smile to the guard. Apparently, the demon had prepared a backstory in case they were questioned. “Ah, we would, but you see, we’re--“

 

“I don’t have time for this,” Castiel huffed, bringing two fingers to the guard’s forehead knocking him out. The large man fell forward landing in Crowley’s arms with an _oomph_ , the demon laying the dark-skinned man gently on the ground out of the way of the exit. The angel stepped around them, yanking open the metal door.

 

“Aren’t you sweet,” Castiel muttered, rolling his eyes, not bothering to check if Crowley was following him inside.

 

“Wouldn’t want him to hurt that pretty face.” Castiel could hear the smile in Crowley’s voice. “Way to go back there. Straight to business as usual. Tell me, love, do you always skip the foreplay and go right for the main event?” The demon chuckled, “Because I’d love to have a go on _that_ ride.”

 

Castiel exhaled a sharp breath, coming to a halt at the end of a beige hallway that split off left and right with three doors down each side. Whipping around to face the demon, Castiel pushed his index finger hard to the center of Crowley’s chest. “I’m not your ‘love’,” he growled.

 

Castiel smirked at the demon then, holding his hand about an inch above his own head, “And you must be _this_ tall to ride this ride.” Castiel winked, turning back around, heading down the right side of the hallway and smiling to himself at Crowley’s stunned expression. “Check the rooms down the left hallway, I’ll check the ones down here.” He called over his shoulder.

 

He approached the set of doors, the middle one open, and he could hear muffled conversation. Quietly, Castiel crept to the doorway, listening.

 

“I’m going solo.”

 

Yes, that was definitely Lucifer. Castiel entered the door and saw two dead band members on a small blue couch against the far wall and a terrified Tommy standing in front of Lucifer. The archangel raised his fingers in a snapping motion. In a flash, Castiel was across the room and grabbing the archangel’s wrist.

 

“Castiel.”

Lucifer turned and with a palm to the seraphs chest, used his grace to throw Castiel across the dressing room and into a rack of clothing.

 

“Took you long enough. Nice threads by the way. You raid an actor’s closet or something?” Lucifer stepped forward, mind thankfully--for the moment--taken off Tommy. “Did you bring the Little Rascals?”

 

“Just me.” Crowley stepped into the doorway. Lucifer’s eyes gleamed.

 

“Spanky. Did not take you for the martyr type, Crowley.”

 

“I’m really not, I just hate you that much.”

The demon flicked his hand sending Lucifer flying across the room, giving Castiel a small amount of satisfaction.

 

“What are you doing, Lucifer? You mean nothing to those kids out there. You think they’d draw blood for _you_? By choice?!” Crowley bellowed.

 

Lucifer rose from the ground dusting himself off, smirking at the demon. “Well, I thought I’d at least ask. And if they won’t give it up by choice, maybe I’ll just take it.” The archangel snarled.

 

“Why,” Castiel asked, getting to his feet, keeping one eye on Lucifer and one on Tommy, still frozen in shock.

 

“Because it’s fun. Because I can. And because being Lucifer? So much Judeo-Christian baggage. But Vince? He’s famous. Everybody loves him.” Lucifer flicked his wrist and sent Crowley sailing into some furniture before slumping to the floor. “And I need love.” Lucifer continued ranting, glaring at Castiel, “I had a jacked-up childhood.”

 

Tommy, finally getting his wits about him, attempted to flee the room of supernatural creatures, but the archangel hadn’t forgotten about Vince’s bandmate.

 

“Hey, Tommy.” Lucifer locked eyes with the man before using his grace to snap Tommy’s neck.

 

“No!” Castiel screamed, eyes wide as he watched the human’s body drop to the floor with a sickening thud. He glared at Lucifer, glee shining from the archangel’s eyes. “You think this is fun?”

 

Lucifer chuckled darkly, creeping toward the seraph. “Oh, I wouldn’t expect _you_ to understand. I was inside you. I know what a weak, duty-bound, pleasureless dullard you are.” Lucifer tormented. Castiel threw a right punch, then a left, the archangel successfully dodging them. Lucifer backhanded Castiel with the force of a semi-truck and landed a punch to the seraph’s stomach before throwing Castiel over a coffee table, the angel crashing into a tiny red couch near the door.

 

Castiel moaned, lying in a heap on the floor. His head and stomach ached and his right cheek throbbed. He needed to get up. Needed to fight. He didn’t know if his angel blade would kill an archangel, but Castiel was determined to try. He rolled onto his back, groaning as his abdominal muscles contracted in his attempt to sit up. Pain shot through his left knee and Castiel gritted his teeth.

 

Lucifer grabbed a guitar from a nearby stand and strolled over to Crowley’s prone body. “And you. Bad doggy. Sit.”

 

Castiel winced as Lucifer landed repeated blows to the demon’s face with an overhand swing of the black and white Stratocaster. The seraph crawled forward on his forearms.

 

The shrill blaring of a fire alarm cut through the air stopping him short.

 

 _The Winchesters_.

 

“Clever girls.” Lucifer twirled a finger in the air, the fire alarm being drown out by the sound of rock music. “Stick around for the after-party,” Lucifer grinned, kicking Castiel in the gut on his way out of the dressing room, to the stage.

 

Castiel’s body thrummed with pain. He crawled over to Crowley, face deeply bruised and bloodied, the demon seemingly unconscious. The roar of a crowd could be heard over the rock music now and the sound of Lucifer talking into a microphone made a stone sink in the angel’s gut; the Winchester’s couldn't get the people out. So many young lives about to be snuffed out.

 

Castiel struggled to get to his feet once again and heard a gunshot, followed by a throng of screams that made Castiel smile.

 

 _Dean_.

 

Castiel grabbed the discarded guitar near Crowley’s body, using the coffee table as leverage to hoist himself to his feet and the angel limped out of the room toward the stage.

 

The angel came up on the opposite side of the stage of where Rowena was supposed to be hidden. Hopefully she had gotten past any security and set up the ingredients for the spell. Sam and Dean stood front and center of the now emptied club floor.

 

“Hey, Assbutt!”

 

Lucifer turned his head and Castiel allowed all the strength his grace possessed to flood into his muscles, swinging the guitar in an uppercut motion that connected with Lucifer’s chin, sending the archangel sprawling back into the drum set behind him. Castiel let his angel blade drop from the sleeve of his leather jacket down into his hand and barreled after Lucifer.

 

The archangel kicked out his leg, still lying in the drum set, foot connecting with Castiel’s already sore abdomen, knocking the wind from the seraphs lungs as he fell backward.

Dean used Castiel’s distraction to jump on-stage, Enochian cuffs at-the-ready, locking the warded metal around the archangel’s wrist as he got up.

 

Lucifer sighed, looking down at his wrist, annoyed. “Dean. Hi.” The archangel grabbed the elder Winchester by the shoulders, throwing the hunter off the stage and into the waiting arms of his brother, knocking them both down. “Sam, enjoy the show?” Lucifer held up his wrist, the Enochian cuff now red-hot and sizzling; they heard metal snapping, the useless cuff falling to the floor with a _clang_. “Mm, guys, you know I could end you all with the snap of my fingers?”

 

Castiel grabbed for the angel blade, just out of reach, trying not to draw the archangel’s attention.

 

“Although,” Lucifer continued, amused, “Why would I do that when you can’t do anything to me?”

Fingers wrapped around the celestial metal, Castiel raising the blade to lunging at Lucifer once again, the archangel stopping him with an outstretched palm.

 

The pain radiating through Castiel’s body was excruciating; white-hot fire singing along his every nerve. Unable to keep hold of the blade, the celestial metal clattered to the floor at the angel’s feet. Lucifer amplified the pain, pulse after pulse coursing through Castiel’s body, attacking his grace and bringing the seraph to his knees.

 

“Cas!” Dean screamed in the distance.

 

It only made Lucifer laugh.

 

“Why are you doing this?” Dean asked.

 

“Why?”

 

“You and God made up,” Sam cried, “You forgave him. What would He think?”

 

“I’m not especially interested in his opinion. Dear old dad, he finally apologized for abandoning me. And what’s the _very_ next thing he does? He ditches me.” Lucifer spat, venom dripping from his words, “And _you_ , too, by the way. Bastard rides off into the sunset with Auntie Amara.

 

He needed _my_ help, and he’d say anything to get it.” Lucifer’s voice cracked, tears shinning in borrowed eyes.

 

Castiel understood. He had those very same questions. It didn’t give the archangel the right to do whatever he wanted.

 

“His words, your words, they mean _nothing_. Don’t you get it? This is all meaningless. Heaven, Hell, this world. If it ever meant anything, that moment has passed. Nothing down here but a bunch of hopeless distraction addicts, so filled with emptiness, so desperate to fill up the void, they don’t mind being served another stale rerun of a rerun of a rerun.

“You know what my plan is?” Lucifer purred to the seraph still on his knees, fisting the collar of the leather jacket. Gently, the archangel caressed Castiel’s face, tracing the line of his jaw with the tip of his index finger, like the touch of a lover. Castiel cringed. From the corner of his eye he saw Dean’s jaw clench. “I don’t have one. I’m just gonna keep on smashing Daddy’s already broken toys and make _you_ watch.” Lucifer balled up his fist and swung. Castiel could hear the crunch of his zygomatic bone as it fractured beneath the archangel’s fist.

 

“No!” Dean yelled, he and Sam rushed the archangel, Lucifer sending them across the club, bodies slamming into the wall where they dropped like flies.

 

He turned his attention back to Castiel, landing punch after punch, kick after kick, until the seraph’s curled in a fetal position, not even able to deflect the blows.

 

Castiel could hear his pulse thumping in his ears, blood running into his eyes as he peeked at Lucifer. The archangel was expending so much energy channeling his grace into beating the seraph that his vessel was rapidly decaying.

 

“It’s over, Lucifer,” Sam said, pulling the demon blade from its sheath, “Give it up!”

 

“Never!”

 

“Manete!”

 

Lucifer stopped mid-lunge at Sam. “What…”

 

“Manete, manete, manete!” Rowena chanted, hands raised, freezing Lucifer to the spot.

 

“Well, hello there, Red. When I break through this weak spell of yours, I’m gonna kill you, you ginger bitch.”

 

“Oh, like I haven’t heard _that_ before.” The witch taunted. “MANETE!”

 

Dean snuck up behind the archangel, pulling out his own angel blade he carried and plunged it deep into the center of Lucifer’s back between his shoulder blades.

 

As Lucifer screamed, eyes flashing red, Sam leapt onto the stage, sliding the demon blade straight through Vince’s heart. Lucifer’s mouth hung open, blood dripping, vessel still decaying. It was starting to smell.

 

Lucifer slammed his head back into Dean’s nose, the bones cracking, blood pouring from his nostrils.

 

“Son of a bitch!”

 

Sam was flung from the stage with a flare of Lucifer’s damaged grace, but the archangel was still alive—severely weakened—but alive and still possessing some grace.

 

Sam, Dean, Castiel, and Rowena looked on in horror at the devil, who was _still_ standing. Neither the angel blade nor the demon blade had killed Lucifer, even being used together.

 

They were fucked.

 

“Well, I’d love to stay and chat but, places to go, people to kill.” Lucifer tipped back his head, a brightly glowing white light emanating from Vince’s opened mouth.

Lucifer was leaving his vessel. He was trying to escape.

 

Time for Castiel and the witch’s Plan B.

 

“Rowena!” Castiel wheezed, coughing up blood against the sleeve of his jacket.

 

The witch slid a glass jar across the stage floor to Castiel, clear liquid sloshing around the bottom of the container as she began throwing ingredients into a large bowl and chanting in Latin.

 

Sam and Dean looked at Castiel questioningly.

 

_“Archangeli, ut hoc oleum sanctum lagenam.”_

 

Lucifer’s essence, blindingly bright, rushed into the bottle of oil, a faint screeching and plea for help in Enochian rattling Castiel’s ears as the archangel realized what was happening.

 

The seraph was dizzy and nauseous, every single cell in Castiel’s body hurt.

 

“Cas, what is that? What are you doing?” Dean asked, panicked.

 

Castiel lay on the ground, broken and bleeding, barely being able to make out the blur that was Dean Winchester, the angel’s eyes nearly swollen shut. “Holy Oil,” Castiel coughed, more blood sputtering from his mouth. He shook his hand, as much as he was able with all the broken bones, coating the gleaming essence of the archangel in the clear liquid. “Dean,” Castiel gasped, short of breath, “matches…pocket…”

 

Dean reached into Castiel’s jeans pocket, grabbing out a book of matches he picked up from the Bellaqua hotel.

 

“Sam,” The younger Winchester looked down at him, tears welling up in those beautiful hazel eyes. Castiel must truly look awful. “Here…jar. Pop the cork. Dean, drop the match.” He tried to hold up the jar for Sam to take, but shrieked as pain ripped through his dislocated shoulder.

 

“It’s okay, Cas, I got it,” Sam soothed, carefully taking the jar from Castiel’s grasp.

 

Black spots obscured what little vision the angel had and he knew he’d lost a lot of blood; the warm, sticky liquid matted in his hair from several wounds; leaking from his eyes, nose, and mouth as well.

 

Castiel heard Dean strike the match, the walls of the club suddenly shaking, glass shattering as the archangel let out a terrifying scream as his grace, his essence, his _being_ , burned into nothing.

 

It was over.

 

They did it.

 

The world was safe.

 

 _Dean_ was safe.

 

Lucifer’s grace had fried Castiel’s so completely, the angel couldn’t even begin to heal himself. The fear that he might die, might never again see Sam or Dean, gripped him and the angel began to cry; the tears mixing with the blood already leaking from his eyes, stinging terribly. Blindly, he reached out, Sam and Dean each taking one of his hands.

 

“Thank you.” Castiel mumbled.

 

“Cas?” Dean’s voice cracked.

 

“Knowing you, it’s been the best part of my life…the things that we’ve shared together,” the angel’s breath wheezed and he gripped Dean’s hand harder, “they have changed me.”

 

Dean let out a shaky breath, momentarily glancing away. Castiel knew Dean hated dealing with feelings and emotion, but if Castiel didn’t say this and he died, he’d never forgive himself. Dean deserved to know.

 

“You guys…you’re my family. I…I love you.” Castiel squeezed Dean’s hand hearing the hunter’s sharp intake of breath, “I love both of you.” Castiel added quickly.

 

_Damn it!_

 

The last thought Castiel had before succumbing to the darkness was that he was such a fucking coward.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on Tumblr [Lover-Awakened](http://www.lover-awakened.tumblr.com)


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